


Their Affections

by ServantOfMischief



Series: Their Affections [3]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett, Lucifer (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Angry Crowley (Good Omens), Angst, Attempted Kidnapping, Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Crowley is Whipped (Good Omens), Crowley is a Sweetheart (Good Omens), Domestic Fluff, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Smut, F/M, Family Dynamics, Female Aziraphale (Good Omens), Fluff and Smut, Gabriel is good, Hurt Aziraphale (Good Omens), Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Mutual Pining, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Rating May Change, Regency Romance, Sandalphon is a shit person, Slavery
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-01
Updated: 2020-09-24
Packaged: 2021-03-02 01:40:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 20
Words: 45,864
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23947087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ServantOfMischief/pseuds/ServantOfMischief
Summary: This is a series of small snippets (not in any chronological order) in which we get to know the characters better before they all met, during the time they were getting to know each other, and after the original fic's ending
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: Their Affections [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1711135
Comments: 191
Kudos: 109





	1. The First Date

**Author's Note:**

> Happy 30th Anniversary Good Omens!

Aziraphale is quite unprepared when she receives a letter two mornings after replying to Crowley’s request to court her. Well, the letter itself isn’t a surprise, as she has been expecting something like this, as she used to get a few during her other courtships which she will not deign to think about, but the contents is what surprise her.

Aziraphale had agreed to let Crowley court her, because he’s proved to be quite different than the suitors she had no say in meeting back home whom her father arranged for her to meet. She wasn’t sure how much different when she accepted, but she expected him to be at least a little bit different. At least he speaks to her like her opinion matters, with respect. That’s more than she’s received from any other man. She expected lavish gifts, like others have given her or attempted to give her. She expected him to show off his wealth, to prove that he has the assets to provide for her, his status in society. Even though he’s proven to be quite the gentleman, she had expected him to court her the same way others had attempted, as is the way of the men. Show the women they are interested, by giving them what they _think_ their ladies might want.

So when it’s just a simple letter from Crowley that arrives sometime after breakfast, she’s almost relieved. When she reads the content, she is both surprised and delighted, and hurries to call on her maids to help her find a fitting attire for the afternoon. After all, for her very first lunch arrangement with her suitor she must look her best, and make a good impression, mustn’t she? This invitation excites her, and as she hurries up the stairs after sending off her reply, she can’t help but think that it is already so much more different than what she is used to.

But when it’s nearing time for her to leave, she grows uncertain, and she’s not quite sure why. True, she will be out enjoying lunch with Crowley, just the two of them, but it’s not as if this will be the very first time such a thing happens. Well yes, the lunch is new, but it being just the two of them is not. The times she visited to return or borrow new books, whenever he was home during those times, he would see her, talk with her, before she left. She liked those times however short they were.

This time, this lunch, they’ll have much more time to properly talk, and learn about each other in a proper manner.

And perhaps that is what’s making her nervous, she wonders. To have the man seeing her for who she is. And how well that is going to go. It never has before. And now, as she’s sitting in the longue, waiting for Crowley’s carriage to come pick her up, she is wringing her handkerchief, wrinkling her delicate gloves as she goes at it.

Oh this is a horrible idea, to agree that is. But it’s too late now to call it off. Crowley is already on his way and it will be a horrible start to their courting if she just calls it off now for no real reason at all. Oh, it will most definitively give him the wrong idea, maybe even have think horrible of her.

“My lady.” Aziraphale jumps startled as Gabriel’s butler approaches. “Lord Crowley is here.” Now she is actually feeling unwell. There’s something fluttering around something awful in her belly. Perhaps she should call it off, lest she makes a fool of both herself and her suitor at wherever it is that he is taking her.

But as she descends to the carriage, and sees Crowley waiting outside it, the fluttering calms somewhat, enough for Aziraphale to not feel so nauseas. When he just stares for a bit after greeting her, she blinks.

“Lord Crowley?”

“I’m sorry.” He apologizes, appearing a bit sheepish. “You just look so lovely.


	2. Stareeeee

This is their tenth dinner, and Crowley loves how relaxed Aziraphale is around him. At the very beginning she had seemed uncertain and hesitant, like she was nervous about something, but the more often they met, the calmer she became.

Confident too.

And it’s such a joy to see. He feels something warm in his chest every time she grows excited or happy over what he says to her or any gifts he gives her. It’s not the first time he’s thought that he can easily devote his life to making her smile, he thinks as he watches her enjoy her dessert. It probably won’t be the last time either.

There are many things Crowley has learned about Aziraphale during their little outings. First off, lavish gifts, while she finds them thoughtful, isn’t something she is very interested in. If he’s going to give her any gift, he’s learned he cannot go wrong with a well-written book. He’s also learned of all her favourite genres, which coincidentally makes it quite easy to plan little outings which she’ll enjoy. Also, he did learn very early on that books must be given at the end of their outings, if he wants to keep her attention during it.

Aziraphale is like a breath of fresh air. He’s said that before, but he’s never stopped believing it. She’s not as curt and rigid and spiteful as the women who’ve been married for some time now and realized that the world they envisioned themselves will never come true. Neither is she like young, unmarried women who clamour for the attentions of wealthy, bachelor lords, hoping for a good, luxurious life, either for their own sake or because their families are pushing them to. After all, Aziraphale had, according to Gabriel, been more than happy to be by herself. She had no intention of accepting anyone’s proposal of courtship.

But she had accepted his, and Crowley will make sure to prove that Aziraphale has not made a mistake by agreeing.

“Are you alright, Lord Crowley?” He blinks, realizing he’s been staring. His glasses are folded on the table, so it is quite obvious what he was doing.

“Yes.” He says, trying to keep from showing that he’s a slight bit embarrassed at having zooned out like he did. And get caught as well. “I’m sorry. How was your dessert?” He gestures to her empty plate, where there is nothing left but crumbs.

“Oh absolutely scrumptious!” She claps her hands together in delight. “I’d like to come back later.” Crowley files that information away for later. But dinner is over, and it is time to bring Aziraphale home. A dreadful thought, but also one that cannot be ignored. He can’t keep her out all night, that is hardly proper. So they head back to the carriage, and Crowley helps her climb in. The way back is mostly quiet, until Crowley speaks up.

“I will be leaving for a while.” The way Aziraphale’s face falls at hearing this both makes him feel bad for mentioning it, but also makes him feel a slight twinkle of hope, assuring him that she enjoys spending time with him. He had brought a small box with him, it was in the carriage when he came to pick her up, but he didn’t speak about it, so she had left the matter alone, despite her curiosity. Now he is fiddling with it, opening it and handing a wrapped present over to her. She accepts it, still looking a bit crestfallen, even as she uncovers the goods inside.

“When I return, won’t you read this book aloud for me?” And his request makes her suddenly beam again.

“I feel like all you do is listen to me ramble on.”

“That’s alright. I like listening to your voice, it’s nice.”


	3. Alone

This is the very first time after their wedding day that Aziraphale is alone in the estate. Well, alone is a relative term, as the maids, stableman, carriage driver, the butler and cooks and-

The point is that her husband is gone on a business trip, and she is home. Their bed is empty, or rather, Crowley’s side of the bed is empty and cold. She knew this would happen, that he had to leave was not a surprise when he explained to her the situation before he left. It does not mean she enjoys being alone in this estate though, it is actually quite lonely, and she had not expected it to be any different. Crowley had made sure to spend a lot of time with her before he had to leave, showing her a lot of affection and made sure she felt cared for and loved. And she had loved it, enjoyed it immensely. And only three days into her being alone, she had felt utterly horrible. Now that nearly a fortnight has passed, and it’s not much longer until his supposed return, she had started to feel a little bit better. At least during the day.

At night on the other hand, when she lie in their…

_‘I cannot be like this every time he has to leave.’_ She thinks in frustration. Because it’s never going to happen that he’ll stop doing these trips just because she asks him to. Because it’s part of his work, it’s part of the family business, and it is important. It’s no different than how it is with her father, and Gabriel. The difference is that she is married to Crowley. If her father was gone, Aziraphale would be overjoyed, if Gabriel was busy, Aziraphale would find something to occupy her time. If Crowley’s busy, Aziraphale knows he’ll join her for meals, or at least hold her when they went to bed. When he is gone, on the other hand… She tosses and turns, and turns and grumbles because no position is comfortable right now. She glances over to the side of which her husband usually sleeps. Perhaps she will feel less lonely if she sleeps on his side of the bed?

She shuffles over, flinches at the cold sheets and nuzzles her face into his pillow. It smells like him, so that’s a thing. She can imagine him being here, if she closes her eyes. If he was here, he would hold her close, so Aziraphale wraps her arms around herself and snuggles more into the pillow. If he was here, he’d snuggle close and press a kiss into her curls, and she’d feel safe and loved. She smiles as she tightens her grip on herself in the way she imagines Crowley would if he was there.

She breathes in and sighs, letting herself imagine that he is there with her. He’d hold her like this, and if they were going to sleep, he’d just murmur sweet nothing until either of them drifts off. And that, she loves that, she truly does. It’s the sweetest thing she’s ever experienced. But if they both want more than just sweet intimacy, all Aziraphale has to do is pull her hair from her neck, or wriggle a bit, and Crowley would place featherlight kisses on her skin, hands moving up her arms in a firm caress, then down, over her hips and stomach, one trailing up, the other down.

Aziraphale finds herself mimicking his movements. One hand ghosts over her breasts, up to rub over her collarbones, pressing gently with her nails at the sensitive spots. Her other hand rubs at her hip, over her stomach. Crowley always does that, as long as Aziraphale is comfortable with it. His fingers would trail over her, kneading and pulling and pinching, lips following the same trail, words whispered against heated skin.

She sighs, shifting to lay on her back as she moves both hands up her body, staring up at the canopy, pulling her sleeping gown up to under her chin so she can directly touch her skin. There’s a nagging thought in the back of her head that she can’t quite drown out that tells her that no matter how good this will feel as she touches herself, that once the pleasure has faded and the fantasy shatters, the loneliness will return, and she’ll feel wretched.

But if she sleeps on his pillow, maybe it won’t be so bad?

So she kneads and massages her breasts, pinching the tightening buds, breath hitching.

_You’re lovely,_ Crowley would say, kissing her.

When they’re together, Aziraphale will cling and touch wherever she can reach, and she closes her eyes again, one hand inching down her stomach and reaching her sex. She rubs her fingers over her folds, feels the slight wetness already gathered and moans. She rubs her folds before slipping a finger in, her breath hitching as she rubs, lifting her legs and planting the soles of her feet on the bed.

Blast it all, she can’t stop now, she _won’t_ stop now.

She slips in a second fingers and scissors them, like Crowley would do. She turns her head, nuzzles into the pillow again. It makes the angle awkward, but it makes it so much easier to keep the fantasy going.

“Anthony…” She whimpers, adding a third finger.

_What do you need?_ He’d growl. She’s sweaty and her dress is bunched up uncomfortably around her, but she feels so good, it’s almost the same as when Crowley does it, almost. His fingers are longer than hers, but right now she can imagine it so vividly behind her eyelids, how he’d kneel between her legs, muttering sweet assurances and adoration as he brings her pleasure. She wants him, so, so much. The hand on her breast moves to her clit and she rubs at it, her hips bucking at the sensation.

“Anthony, Ahn-Anthony!” She’s so close, just right at the edge and she whimpers as she realizes she isn’t able to bring herself over it. And it’s so _bloody frustrating-_

A door opens and she freezes in place, the only sound in the room is her heavy breathing and the clicking of shoes on tiled floor. A person comes into the room, but it’s too dark for Aziraphale to see who it is, and she’s trying to control her breathing, and who is just waltzing into her bedchambers in the middle of the-

“Aziraphale?” Crowley’s voice calls out, sounding a mix between worried and confused. “Are you awake? Are you-“ The rest of his sentence is drowned out by the loud wail she releases as she finally crests the edge and is swept away by the pleasure, hips bucking, seeking to prolong the euphoric feeling. When she comes back to herself, Crowley is hovering above her.

“Are you alright?” He sounds worried, and she cannot imagine why, and she does not have the patience for dim-witted questions. She grabs his cravat and yanks him close.

“Clothes off. _Now_!” She nearly snarls, before letting go long enough to chuck her gown away from herself, and she’s satisfied to see that her husband is doing as she’s told him to, although struggling a bit in his haste. His jacket is off, the cravat is gone and he’s struggling with his shoes. Aziraphale has no patience for that. Crowley is too preoccupied with his clothes to notice his wife’s movements, so there isn’t much resistance when dainty hands fist in his shirt and yanks him forward. He flails with a yelp, barely managing to catch himself before he crushes her with his weight, and then she’s upon him.

“Missed you so much.” She says between kisses, hands tugging at his shirt.

“I can tell.” He’s recovered enough to grin impishly at her as he pulls back to toss the fabric of clothing away before laying back down again, groaning at the feel of his skin against hers. How long has he been gone? Too long, _way too long_. He rolls his hips and Aziraphale gasps at the feeling of the course fabric over her sensitive skin, and paws at his breeches, tugging them down over his hips. They don’t go too far, because she won’t let him move back to remove them properly.

“Aziraphale-“ He protests, or tries to, but she has one hand in his hair, yanking him down and the other skating down his body to wrap around him and he feels like the breath is punched out of him, even more so when she speaks again.

“I have been alone for nearly a fortnight, I have missed you, I need you, so you’re going to give me exactly what I want, right now, or I will be very cross with you.” She says very sternly, and he blinks, several times, before slowly nodding. Her stern expression melts away and she smiles sweetly at him.

“Good. Up against the pillows, darling.” She pushes at him and he lets himself be moved and rearranged and just watches as Aziraphale hurries to straddle his lap, eyes locking with his as she grabs him and sinks down onto him. Both her hands land upon his shoulders, and he can feel the nails digging into his shoulders as she begins moving, setting a near frantic pace, and Crowley, he cannot do much more than watch as she _takes_ her pleasure from him. This lasts until she makes a high-pitched keening whine, nails drawing down his chest and he jolts into action, hands grabbing at whatever part of her he can reach.

“ _Look_ at you, angel.” He groans, hands landing on her hips, helping her keep her momentum.

“Ah, what-?” Aziraphale gasps.

“Just _taking_ what you need, you’re, ngk, you’re amazing.”

“Is it-“ She slows down, suddenly appearing unsure, “is it bad?”

“Don’t stop now.” He bucks his hips, jostling her.

“I _want_ to watch you come, angel, _show me_.” And she whines, one of her hands tangling in his hair and yanking him back as she leans forward.

“Then _make me, husband!”_

* * *

The first to wake up the next morning is Crowley. He blinks bleary eyes open and wonders why he is so tired. But then his wife shifts in his hold and he remembers. They need to talk about his rather enthusiastic welcome, they really do. He had not expected it, and they have to talk about it. He sighs and turns to fully face his slumbering wife, a hand brushing through her tangled curls.

Fuck, she’s beautiful, and she’s his. And she’s waking up, sighing as she moves to stretch, only to wince.

“You alright?” Crowley asks, concerned, and she nods.

“Just a bit sore.” She shuffles closer and wraps her own arms around him. He kisses her forehead with a smile and they lie there for a little while, Aziraphale nearly falling back into sleep before Crowley speaks up.

“Angel, we need to talk.”

“Talk about what?”

“What happened last night, that’s what.” And she looks up at him, appears to be very worried and uneasy and _ashamed_ and he’s not having that.

“No, angel, don’t worry, there, you didn’t do anything wrong, don’t think you did.” He assures her, but it seems like Aziraphale has fallen for her anxieties.

“I confess, I don’t quite know what happened! I’m sorry if-“

“No, no apologies. I didn’t expect to be welcomed back like that, but I thoroughly enjoyed it.” He assures her. She exhales and relaxes, falling back into his embrace with lowered shoulders.

“Alright.” They lie there for a few more moments, enjoying such a peaceful morning, Crowley stroking a hand up and down her back.

“I’d love for you to take charge like that more often.” He suddenly says and Aziraphale purse her lips together, slapping his chest and rolling away.

“You fiend!” She ignores his laughter as she finds her robe and calls on a maid to come help her dress.


	4. Bastard

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cackle cackle

Something is wrong. Lord Anthony J. Crowley doesn’t know what, exactly, but his gut tells him so. Perhaps it’s the twitchy behaviour of their servants, perhaps it’s the way his father glares at the butler every time the man opens his mouth, looking very unimpressed with his lord. It rubs the young lord the wrong way. Especially since Anthony always thought that his father had the servants’ respect. Especially now that the health of the eldest Crowley is waning. They came out to the summer villa so that Crowley Senior can get some rest, but even if he gets proper rest and care, something is off.

At first, Anthony elects to ignore it, as he has his hands full just trying to keep the workload off of his father. Now, they’ve never had the best kind of relationship, Anthony was much more attached to his mother, who had fallen ill three years earlier. It had been hard on a fifteen-year old boy to watch his mother struggle with a terrible illness and waste away in her sickbed. The only reason Anthony has a relationship with his father at all is because the man did visit his wife as she lay dying and had shed tears during her funeral. He figured it is worth a shot, before he loses his last parent as well. So, he tries, he really tires. It’s not always easy, they rarely agree on anything and often the younger man leaves feeling like he’s been treated like a child, but Anthony does his best.

But now, tired and at the end of his patience, he’s grown quite annoyed with the not-so-subtle whisperings between the servants, so once when he catches a tiny group of three maids talking quietly after having his father refuse to answer the questions about what is going on when he obviously knows what’s going on, he finds himself snapping. Perhaps it is unfair to the three servants, but right now Anthony finds himself unable to care. He hates being kept in the dark, especially when the staff knows something about his father that makes them act so cold. Even towards him, and he knows he’s done nothing that should have caused them to be displeased with him.

“You three!” They jump apart startled, and appear as if they want to run away, but they all think better of it, when they see his expression.

“Y-young master!”

“You think me blind?” He very nearly growls. “Do you think I am deaf? Do you honestly think I don’t notice you’re gossiping?”

“Of course not, young master!” They look properly horrified, so he takes a deep breath to calm himself.

“What is this topic you’re all gossiping about? It clearly has something to do with my father, and I want to know what it is. I’m _tired_ of seeing you all sneak about, so either speak up now, or forget the whole matter entirely and stop speaking of it.” They all look very uncomfortable, but before the situation can escalate, someone clears their throat, and Crowley turns around to see the butler.

“They’re not allowed to tell you, young master, by order of your father.” Crowley narrows his eyes as he hears this.

“Are _you_ , Bernard?”

“No, young master.” Truly, his father will not let his son learn whatever it is that has the servants turning on them. But Anthony is good at finding loopholes, he’s been doing so his whole life.

“Can you at least give me a hint in which I can figure it out on my own? Or have you been ordered to not even give me that much?”

“I have not.” Bernard says, but he furrows his brows. “I will give you the lead you want, young master, though please consider my words; this is not their fault, so please, do not judge what you find.” Crowley frowns, not sure who or what Bernard is referring to, but waits.

“Go to the stables, young master. You’ll find your answer there.” Now that makes no sense to Crowley, the only one there should be Hastur, but he’s been given the lead he asked for, so he goes. He’s not exactly a fan of horses, and none of them likes him very much either, but he wants answers.

Down at the stables he finds only Hastur shovelling shit. He sees nothing out of the ordinary. For a second he wonders of Bernard sent him on a fool’s errand just to get the maids free and running to do their chores.

“Hastur.” The man straightens up and raises a brow as he leans against the shovel.

“What brings you here?” Hastur’s different. He shows the head of the family proper respect, but Anthony he only treats like any other person, just nicer. If Hastur is at all capable of being nice. To Anthony though, this is a small comfort, at least back in the day.

“You’re never down here in the stables.” Not since the incident when Anthony was thirteen years old, no, but that is also an incident which shall never be explained to anyone ever again.

“Do you know what the household maids keep gossiping about?” If not for the slight shift in his posture and the way his eyes flicker to the side, Anthony would have believed the stable hand when he shrugs nonchalantly and says no. But the blonde _did_ give himself away, and Anthony follows his line of sight. An empty cubicle. Anthony heads over, ignoring Hastur’s protests and enters. Huddled in a corner, he sees a child, dirty, smelling absolutely horrible, hair tangled in big clumps, clothes far too big for their little frame. Anthony is confused, because _why_ is there a child hidden in the stables?

“Please, leave her be.” Hastur sounds both angry and tired, but Anthony feels a pull. Is this the lead Bernard talked about, is this why the staff seem so displeased? He carefully moves closer, trying not to frighten the child who is curling in on herself the closer he moves.

“I’m not going to hurt you.” He says as he moves closer. He reaches out and gently moves the hair out of her face. What he sees makes him freeze, and he feels an incredible amount of rage surge through him.

_‘That fucking bastard!’_ He thinks as a pair of eyes nearly identical of his own peers up at him fearfully. It’s a little girl, her face gaunt and hollow. This child has not been able to wash herself in quite some time, nor has she eaten properly as of late, if ever at all.

“Why’re you in such a state, little one?” The little girl doesn’t answer, but Hastur doesn’t have any qualms about speaking.

“Because she’s not allowed to leave the stables when your lord father is here.” Hastur spits out behind Anthony. The redhead understands now, the gossip and coldness from the servants. He feels disgusted too. He and his father has been here for nearly three weeks. This girl has been living in these stables for three weeks. Like some kind of animal.

“What’s your name?” The girl’s eyes flit up to look over his shoulder for a few moments before she looks at him again.

“Babylon.” Her voice is raspy, and Anthony thinks for a few moments before holding out a hand for her to take. She looks absolutely terrified of it and presses herself flat against the wall. Anthony feels sick at the sight.

“I promise, I will not hurt you.” She still looks unsure, and it takes a few more minutes before she cautiously reaches out and takes his hand, letting him pull her up on her feet, though she’s rather unsteady. With the way her legs are shaking, she won’t be able to walk very far. Carefully Anthony leans down and picks her up. She yelps, flailing until he places a hand on her back to steady her, so she doesn’t topple herself out of his grip in her panic.

“I’ll fix this.” He says to the little girl, but Hastur throws his arms out.

“ _How_ can you fix this? Look at her! While her mother was alive, she could stay with the maids, but the moment she died your lord father tosses her out! He promised to legitimize her, but you can see how well that ended!” Hastur is angry on the girl’s behalf, he’s not actually angry at Anthony, because obviously the younger lord knew nothing about this girl before now, but he needs to get it out, and Anthony is right now the only one he can yell at about this, so he does.

“I didn’t even know she existed until now.” Anthony is tired. The girl is scared and Hastur is livid. But with good reason. The people working at this summer villa literally live here all year round, they are a little family of their own, they’re close-knit. That’s why, even though they’re supposed to be loyal to the Crowley family, they can’t quite hide their disdain for the head of the family and his actions. Anthony can hardly fault them, he feels terrible about this too, but if his father truly promised to legitimize this girl…

“Do you have proof?” He asks Hastur, who narrows his eyes. “What?”

“Do you have proof that he promised to legitimize her?” Anthony asks again, and Hastur regards him for one long moment, not quite sure whether to give him a proper answer or not, before giving in.

“A letter he wrote. The butler has it.” Anthony nods, before he moves back towards the villa. Babylon seem to grow anxious the moment she realizes where they are going, appearing as she’s desperate to get back to the stables, but he shushes her.

“You’ll get a proper bath, and food, and clean clothes.” He says as he pats her back. “You’re not a beast, you don’t deserve to be treated as one.”

“But the master-“ She breaks off coughing, her throat too sore and dry to do much talking.

“The man will not cause any trouble if he values his bloody reputation, and trust me, that’s the most important thing to him. I’ll make sure he leaves you alone.”

“Why?” Babylon is a scared child who have been sorely neglected by the noble family her mother served, by no fault of her own. She didn’t ask for this, she didn’t ask to be born into this word, but she’s punished by the lord’s own inability to be loyal to his wife and marriage for the vows he made. He was unable to keep his hands and cock to himself, and is punishing an innocent for his own transgressions, instead of taking responsibility.

Nothing angers Anthony more than that. So, he barges into the villa, and finds the maids and Bernard waiting in the foyer, curious about his reaction to finding the girl, no doubt. It should be clear on his face what he thinks of the entire situation, so he doesn’t bother explaining.

“She needs a bath, so prepare one and find her some clean clothes. One of you go find the cook and have him prepare a meal for her, something easy for her stomach, and lots of water.” He’s halfway up the stairs before he realizes that they’re not following him. He turns around and glares.

“Well? What are you waiting for, a bloody invitation?” And they all jump into action, one of the maids running off to find the cook while the other two and the butler follow him up the stairs. As Anthony relinquishes the girl to the maids, whom she seems much more comfortable around, he nods at Bernard and makes the butler follow.

“Hastur told me you have a letter in which my father promised to legitimize Babylon. I want to see it.” Bernard looks surprised for all of two seconds, before he bows his head.

“At once, young master.” The man says and leaves. Anthony already feels a headache coming on, knowing that the evening will not be any more pleasant than the entire day has been.

* * *

During dinner, Crowley senior tries to speak with his son, but Anthony is not quite in the mood to indulge the man. He is still far too angry, considering there is a child in his room, hiding in terror with a maid trying to offer comfort and safety. A child with marks on her back, long angry lines criss-crossing across sickly pale skin.

“Anthony, really.” His father sighs. “I promised your mother to be-“

“Promised, hm?” Anthony cuts him off, unable to hold back any longer as he puts down his cutlery and leans back in his seat as he crosses his arms across his chest.

“I didn’t think you cared much about keeping such things. You break them often enough.” Crowley senior looks rather affronted and confused, putting down his own cutlery and straightening in his seat and glares.

“I don’t know what’s gotten into you today, but I will not be treated with such disrespect! I have done nothing wrong!”

“Infidelity and child neglect aren’t wrong?” Anthony appears perfectly calm, because he has to be. Crowley senior freezes in his seat, paling as the impact of just _what_ it is that his son is implying to know before he clears his throat and tries to appear alright.

“Whatever the servants have told you-“

“The servants have told me nothing. I found the girl.” The man suddenly looks extremely furious as Anthony says this.

“That pathetic wretch!” He thunders. “She was told to stay at the stables! She’ll pay for disobeying!”

“Babylon stayed in the stables. That’s where I found her. Do you have a proper explanation about this, and how you’re going to take responsibility?” Anthony says, hairs raising at the back of his neck at the sight of his father so angry, and threatening with punishing the girl for no fault of her own.

“The stable hand should have hidden her away. I’m sorry you had to see, but she’s a mistake that will not make any impact on your future, I assure you.” Anthony never had too much of an opinion on his father. He had a slight hope of perhaps making a tentative relationship with the man after his mother’s death, but whatever plans he had thought about evaporates at the man’s words. The younger Crowley already knows he’s going to enjoy getting his way.

“You promised her mother you would legitimize her.”

“She would have told your mother otherwise. You have to understand, Anthony, I didn’t want to sleep with that maid, it was a horrible mistake, but I was horribly stressed at the time, and she seduced me, hoping I would raise her status.” Anthony doesn’t hear his father come with an explanation, all he hears is excuses, excuses that makes his father sound like a victim. He is not the victim, Babylon is.

“Why did you sleep with her if you didn’t want to?” His father appears confused by the question, so Anthony ploughs on. “All you had to do was keep your hands to yourself, but you didn’t. You promised you’d legitimize her. She is your daughter, and if you have any shred of honour left in you, you will fulfil that oath.” Anthony near on hisses.

“There’s no proof of such a promise. And why should I? She’s just a peasant girl. Even if she decides to raise a fuss, no one will believe her. And the brat knows better than to raise a fuss.” The man says threateningly, before taking a sip of his wine.

“The child has a letter with such a promise from you, _with your signature_.” Crowley senior chokes on the liquid and coughs.

“S-she what?”

“You lie through your teeth without thought for the consequences. Now they’ve caught up with you, you stupid fool!”

“Where is it?” Crowley senior demands. “We must destroy it, before she does something that can ruin our reputation!”

“It’s gone.” Crowley senior seem to relax when Anthony says this, falling back in his seat.

“You’re going to do good on your promise, because that girl is your daughter, and before you do something outrageously stupid, more stupid than _sleeping around with more of the staff_ , because I don’t trust you not to. Take some responsibility for your own bloody actions for once!”

“Who do you think you are? I am your father, I raised you-“

“You did no such thing! My mother raised me, and I thank all the powers that be that she did, lest I ended up being just as stupid as you are! You _slept_ with a maid from the household, _while you were still married, while mother was still alive, you will take some goddamn responsibility and you will do so now!”_ Crowley senior seems rather flabbergasted that his own son is speaking to him in such a manner and tries to retaliate.

“Your mother wouldn’t have wanted-“ And that is the very last straw for Anthony, to have this absolute pathetic excuse of a man try and use his dead mother as an excuse to weasel out of the situation he has put himself in.

“ _Don’t_ you _dare._ ” Anthony hisses. “Don’t you _dare_ bring mother up. You were unfaithful to her, you don’t _get to use her as an excuse.”_

“Be that as it may, I don’t need a daughter, Anthony. She is useless to me.” And there it is. A daughter is useless, because she cannot further on the blood line, and the Crowley’s are of a really old blood line. But so is another, and Crowley has already prepared himself for this. So he stands up, wiping his hands on the napkin offered to him as he stares down at his father with disdain.

“Don’t say I didn’t give you a chance.” He says. “The letter has already been sent to Beelzebub Prince, with directions that if they don’t hear from me in five days, they’re free to tell the whole circle of noble families that we do business with and associate with that you’ve sired a child outside your marriage, and that you have even mistreated and beat said child for just existing. You know the circle they keep, let’s see how well that goes for your precious family name.”

“That, you can’t do that, Anthony!” Crowley senior jumps to his feet.

“I just did.”

“If such a thing happens, it’ll impact you too! It will ruin our family’s good name!” It is at this point that Anthony has walked over to the door leading out of the dining room, and the door opens, showing Bernard waiting for him.

“The difference between me and you, are that I don’t care. And let me tell you this, if you don’t legitimize Babylon, I will never marry. I will let the family line die out with me.”

“You wouldn’t!” The man yells out angrily, but beneath it all Anthony can hear fear.

“Try me.” And then he waltzes out and Bernard closes the door behind him. It is at this point that the head of the family realizes he is standing alone with absolutely no one on his side. Even his staff has turned away from him and are rallying behind his son instead. It’s not safe for him here.

Crowley returns to his room and finds the little girl sitting on the floor, huddled up against the bed, looking like she wants to take a blanket and wrap it around herself but not daring to do so. She’s shivering, but whether or not that is from either fear or cold, Anthony doesn’t know. He’s determined to make her feel safe though, so he gently announces his return. She’s quick on her feet.

“How are you?”

“Fine, m’lord.” She replies quickly but quietly.

“Good.” He doesn’t actually believe her, but he lets it go. It’ll do no one any good if he pushes her too far when she’s so vulnerable and scared. So he takes a seat on the bed and pats the space beside him, a silent invitation for her to join. She’s too scared to refuse. They sit there in silence for a while before she dares to speak up.

“Am I… am I going to be punished? For leaving the stables?” Her voice is so quiet he almost doesn’t hear her, but when he does, he shakes his head.

“No, I made you do it, it’s not your fault and you won’t be punished. I’ll make sure he won’t get anywhere near you alone again. No more punishments.” She seems to relax a little bit, but that can change so quickly, so Anthony decides to just get it over with.

“I’ve talked to him, made him think over the promise he made your mother. He’ll bring you in, and you’ll get to live with me.”

“He will?” Babylon asks, sounding like she doesn’t quite believe Anthony, and who can blame her? She’s probably not known much kindness from the family her mother served. She probably thinks that even if she is brought into the family, she won’t be safe. It’ll just bring her closer to her tormentor.

“He will. He won’t dare to go back on his word.” Another silence, where he sees Babylon chew on her thumbnail, he can practically hear her thinking.

“Why did you help me, m’lord?” And that is the very first thing that has to go, he thinks. They do not have the same mother, but they do have the same father. She can’t go around calling him ‘lord’ whenever they speak.

“Because we’re family.” She turns her head so fast he’s a bit disturbed, eyes wide with shock. “And you deserve better. None of what has happened has ever been your fault, and you deserve to be happy and loved.” She looks at him like he’s said the most astounding thing she’s ever heard.

* * *

His father breaks by the next morning, and Anthony has Beelzebub wait until his father has done the paperwork and sent it off to be officiated. Then the younger Crowley has Beelzebub hold onto the letter, just for safe-keeping, so that his father can’t undo it all should he get his hands on it. Six weeks after Babylon was recognized as a daughter of lord and became a Crowley herself, the head of house passes away in a carriage accident.

Anthony finds her in the stables the day of the funeral, crying tears of relief.


	5. The Journey

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale used to lead a happy life in her childhood home. Keyword: Used

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for shitty, entitled dads, with shitty opinions.

Aziraphale often finds herself hiding in her room now. She is also painfully aware that their parents’ rows are because of her. She’s already twenty-four years old, and her father has been trying to find proper suitors for her for years. Proper is the word he uses for the people he can profit something from. It’s never been about Aziraphale’s happiness, it’s about what Eugene Fell can get from it. And Aziraphale’s mother is the only one who can help her.

It all started the first time he brought up a suitor. Aziraphale knew it would happen at some point, she wasn’t surprised back then that he brought it up. Aziraphale is well-read, she knows that her father is well within his rights to decide who can court her and marry her. She also knows that the only power she has, is to say no. Pointing this out, however, was a mistake. Something dark had passed over her father’s face then, and she had felt very much unsafe.

“If you know what’s best for you, you will say yes when I tell you to.” And Aziraphale had shrunk back in her chair, trembling and feeling tears press on.

“Eugene!” Her mother, on the other hand, had a very different idea. “It _is_ well within her rights to say no! It’s not a right you can just take away when it pleases you! And if no one here can be her husband, then surely my nephew in London can find her one. I’ll send him a letter in the morning.” And that seemed to have settled the matter there, except it hadn’t. Two years later, and her father sets her up with suitor after suitor, and Aziraphale tries to give them the benefit of the doubt, she tries to see something that can assure her so she can please her family, but she just… can’t.

And her father grows more and more furious with every rejection.

“Aziraphale, if you reject this next suitor.-“ Eugene begins, but Aziraphale’s mother cuts in.

“Then rest assured, Gabriel has assured me that there are many eligible lords in London. All he asks is that he can give a legal approval to any engagement.” She says, eyes narrowing as she has a staring match with her husband, whom she has not been very impressed with lately.

“I swear, if you reject him, I’ll send you off to London and have your cousin marry you off to an old corpse, you useless girl!” It hurts to hear such things, to have her own father speak to her like she’s a disappointment. Aziraphale wants to run and hide, but if she leaves the table without being excused, she’ll be in even more trouble, so she forces her tears back. The end of the day can’t come fast enough, and when she can go to her chambers, she nearly runs down the halls. She shuts the door behind her with more force than is necessary, and breaks down. She barely manages to reach her bed before she crumples to the floor, sobbing into the sheets, a desperate attempt at muffling her crying.

She knew she would be married off one day. That’s normal in this day and age, she is nothing but a pawn in her father’s quest to gain power and more wealth, and she thought she had come to terms with it, but she hasn’t. She finds it so incredibly unfair that women are to be treated like this, she finds herself resenting the fact that she was born a woman. Her father’s harsh words and the way he demeans her, it’s just too much. He used to love her, at some point. He used to read her bedtimes stories, comfort her after nightmares, _where is that man now?_ She’s startled out of her misery when there’s a knock on her door. She wonders if she should just ignore it.

“Aziraphale? Can you let me in, dear heart?” But how can she, when it’s her one ally in this house who is on the other side? She hurriedly wipes the tears away and straightens her crumpled dress the best she can, before she calls out for her mother to enter. The woman does so, and seems very sad to see the state of her eldest daughter, but not surprised.

“Oh, my dear.” She says as she moves over to sit beside her daughter on her bed, pulling her into an embrace. Aziraphale can’t do anything but start crying again.

“My sweet girl.”

“I can’t marry that man, I can’t! It’s not that he is a bad man, because he isn’t, not as a person, but he won’t ever care for me, because it’s just an obligation. I won’t survive such a marriage! I thought I could, I thought I could make father happy, but I can’t, I’m not strong enough!” Most of all, Aziraphale is frightened, frightened of a future in which she has no say in what will happen to her, where she has no autonomy over herself.

“Then reject him.” Her mother simply says, as if there are no consequences to such an action, and Aziraphale looks up, confused. Why?

“Reject the man, Aziraphale, and your father will send you to London. Gabriel will take good care of you, and keep you safe, from both your father and any other.”

“But, but father will-“

“Don’t worry about it.” She gently cuts the younger lady off. “I have made sure that everything will be alright. Reject the boy, and go to London.” Aziraphale is reassured, because her mother has never lied to her, and has always protected her when she so dearly needs it. But this feeling of safety does not last long, because her mother suddenly falls ill not many months later, and she succumbs to it. They all grieve, for a time. Eugene is too tired and hurt to deal with finding his eldest daughter a suitor, so he has all her things packed and sends her off to London, going through with his late wife’s plan.

Only four months after Lady Fell’s passing.

The trip feels longer than it truly is, and Aziraphale finds herself trapped in her own dark thoughts, alternating between thinking of how she misses her one protector, the one who cared about her, and how much the loss of her hurts. The other thought is that she is such a disappointment to her other parent that he’d thrown her away the moment he could. What is even the point of her?

“My lady?” She’s been so deep in thought she never even noticed the carriage had stopped. She blinks before turning to look at the driver, who is leaning in through the door, appearing a bit worried.

“Yes?”

“Do you need a break?” In all honesty, whether or not they make a stop, she won’t stop thinking these thoughts anyway. They will plague her all the way to London, and for quite some time longer, she believes, so she shakes her head kindly and tells him that she will not need any more rest stops than he and the horses. He appears no less worried by this, but it is not his place to go against her, so he follows her instructions.

It’s not his place to talk to her, but the driver worries when, during their journey, she seems to grow dark circles beneath her eyes, cheeks hollowing a slight bit. She’s deteriorating, and it’s painful to watch.

Aziraphale finds little rest on the trip, plagued by all these negative thoughts that have followed her for the last few years, alongside with her newest loss. What’s even the point of sending her to London? If her father couldn’t find any man back home, what chance does Gabriel have with anyone in London, where the noble families are of a higher status than her own. What kind of a high born lord would marry a lady of, noble status yes, but a low noble status? She doesn’t expect to find anyone in London either. She expects to always be the shameful stain on the Fell name.

And what a horrible daughter she is, unable to do one meagre little thing to please her family, to better their lives. She is utterly-

The carriage stops again, for a final time today, and the door opens and the driver holds a hand out for her to take, as he helps her down from the carriage. And there Gabriel is, a gentle smile on his face as he welcomes her to London, and makes absolutely sure every comfort is prepared for. And she is thankful for it, because during dinner he tells her that he has no intention of doing what her father wants, that he is doing this for her at the request of her late mother, and Aziraphale is so thankful for having someone on her side again. Michael is on her side, but she has as much a say in any arrangement as Aziraphale herself, so to have someone on her side who _does_ get a say is just… it is very relieving.

She’s not too comfortable about being brought along to a party with all these nobles and their ladies, but Gabriel has promised to protect her, to not dangle her like a lamb amongst wolves to be devoured. So she holds Gabriel’s arm in a firm grip as they enter the venue, nervous, and hopes that she will be mostly left alone, that she will be just a pretty lady on her cousin’s arm. At the very least until she knows more about the families and their relations to each other.

“Lord Ecclestone.” Someone greets them and Gabriel turns them around swiftly, a pleasant smile stretching across his face.

“Lord Crowley.” He greets back, and then gestures towards Aziraphale. “Allow me to introduce my cousin, Lady Aziraphale Fell.”


	6. One + One = Three

This was not how he expected their day to go. They had a lovely morning, in which Crowley had ignored all his work in favour of sitting with Aziraphale, listening to her read as he rubbed at her swollen stomach, feeling the movements of the child within. It had become his favourite pastime, just sitting with her, feeling the baby move about. He almost dreaded when the day for childbirth was to come. Lunch passed, tea-time passed, and then there was dinner, and the cook had gone all out for his lord and lady.

Aziraphale had been delighted, very much enjoyed being spoiled so much, and Crowley had enjoyed watching her indulge. But then her expression had shifted a bit, brows scrunched for several moments before relaxing. He’d asked if something was wrong, and she had shook her head and continued to eat, before it happened again, and again, and again.

“Something is happening.” And that was when he had the servants call for the midwife, as he brought Aziraphale to the room they had prepared for this day, and there he had helped her out of her dress and shoes, undid her hair and comforted her as they waited for the midwife. He had promised to stay with her, because she pleaded for him to, because even though Aziraphale had looked forward to this day, she was afraid now. But when the midwife had come, she had bodily dragged and tossed Crowley out of the room, yelling that this was no place for a man, that he had no business sticking around for the birth of his own child.

The cheek, the gall, how dare she? Just because most husbands stay outside it does not mean that _Crowley_ didn’t want to be in there with his wife during this moment.

Because he wants to, he very much wants to. Yes, Aziraphale has done most of the work, she is _still_ doing most of the work, but that child she is bringing into this world is _his_ child too! He helped start this, he wants to be there at the end of it. He doesn’t want to be doing what he is now, pacing about outside the doors, listening to the midwife’s shouting and Aziraphale’s groans of pain. He doesn’t want to stand out here, not knowing whether or not Aziraphale and the baby are alright, because just listening to what is happening isn’t giving him much information about anything. It is making him anxious, he doesn’t know what’s going on. Is Aziraphale alright, is the baby safe, are things relatively normal right now or is escalating to something horrible?

Alright, he may be turning a bit paranoid, but he likes being in the know. And being tossed out of the room in which his wife is giving birth to their very first child is not being in the _know._ But then again, the midwife knows better than him, he’s never been anywhere close to a childbirth, he doesn’t know what’s to be expected or what’s to be done, but-

Aziraphale wails.

Fuck it, he’s going in. He shoves the doors open and marches in, the maids jump at the sound but he doesn’t give a damn, doesn’t even cower from the scathing glare the midwife sends his way as he makes his way over to a sweaty Aziraphale in pain and snatches a cloth out of a maids hands, motioning for her to move aside as he takes over her task of wiping Aziraphale’s brow.

“You can’t be in here!” And Crowley has had about enough of this bloody woman and he tells her so.

“This is _my_ house, this is _my_ wife giving birth here, _and that is my child being born.”_ He nearly snarls and her eyes widen in fright. “Just _try_ and toss me out, I _dare you._ ” She still looks rather miffed about the whole thing, but decides to ultimately ignore him because it’s true that this is his home and she has no say. She’s only here to help deliver a baby, and she will do so and then be on her way. So she goes back to giving Aziraphale stern instructions, while Crowley holds her hand and wipes her face, murmuring encouragement as she fights on.

It takes a rather long time, and Crowley grows worried at how pale Aziraphale has become, but the midwife seems to be in control so he will have to trust her judgement. She’s done this before, and he has not. And suddenly she calls out.

“I can see the head, push!” Head? Push? Oh holy shit it is actually happening? Is the baby actually coming- he feels like punching himself. Of course the baby is coming, that’s the whole reason Aziraphale has been lying in this bed in pain for the last who-knows-how-many hours.

“You hear that, angel? Almost done, they’re almost here. You can do this, I believe in you.” He keeps on murmuring and squeezing her hand in support, and it truly doesn’t take much longer before suddenly there is a cry and Aziraphale slumps together in exhaustion onto the bed, trying to get her breath back as she can finally relax her body after this entire ordeal. Crowley wipes the sweat away and kisses her forehead, tells her how proud of her he is, how much he loves her and how amazing she is while the midwife cleans the new-born up. When she clears her throat to get their attention though, both look up to see her no longer looking stern or affronted, but rather proud.

And that’s when it really hits Crowley. He is a father now.


	7. Chapter 7

Babylon had received a letter that asked her to urgently come to London. Her brother had not mentioned what it was that she was needed for, only that he really needed her to come and visit. While sitting in the carriage taking her to London, Babylon had pondered the few possible reasons as to why Crowley would want her to come visit in such an urgent manner. It could be that something was wrong, between him and Aziraphale that is, but the blonde disregards that thought quickly. Aziraphale and Babylon send letters to each other quite often and the other blonde has not mentioned that anything was wrong. And Aziraphale knows she can confide in Babylon, whatever it is. It could be that something was wrong _with_ Aziraphale, and that is a terrible thought, but again she drops that thought, because if something was truly ailing her, Crowley would have mentioned it in his letter.

By the time she arrives at the estate she is anxious, and she storms up the stairs to the doors, the butler meeting her there.

“Where is my brother? And Lady Aziraphale?”

“The Lady is visiting her cousin. Lord Crowley is in his study.” The butler informs her, and she nods in thanks. If Aziraphale is out, she will have to go immediately to her brother. So she lifts her skirts and nearly canters the entire way, not caring how stupid she looks in her attire, and nearly slam the doors open when she arrives. Crowley curses as he, startled by her sudden and loud arrival, tips over the inkwell and ruins whatever paper he was signing.

“Bloody hell, Babylon, what was that for?” He says as he tries in vain to salvage the mess.

“You send me a letter that makes me think something is wrong, and then you get annoyed when I come as quickly as I can?” He blinks, before he gets up and heads over to her, motioning for her to follow him as they leave the study.

“Have someone clean up the mess inside, please.” He says to a passing maid before moving on, not even waiting for an answer from the maid, and not waiting for Babylon to catch up either. This is odd, but Babylon follows silently, waiting for her brother to speak up and tell her what is so urgent that he needed her to come. It is apparently bothering him a great deal, she can see it, as they walk down and out into the garden. It is absolutely lovely this time of the year, perhaps they will be enjoying lunch outside today. They come to a stop beneath the lone apple tree and Crowley finds himself leaning against it, exhausted already.

“Anthony.” Babylon says, voice conveying concern but also gives him the message to start talking.

“Aziraphale is pregnant.” And Babylon first feels an absolute joy at the words, because this is truly amazing news. They have tried for a while, they really wanted a child, so to hear that his brother’s wife is expecting is such a joyous thing to hear. It also makes her quite cross, and she punches his arm, hard, and quite unladylike as she snaps at him.

“ _You made me think something horrible had happened, you absolute buffoon of a man!”_ He doesn’t even flinch, but he doesn’t look particularly happy either, and now Babylon starts to worry again. Why is he not happy about something they’ve strived to achieve?

“Anthony?”

“I… I’m worried.” He admits, and Babylon frowns.

“About what? Aziraphale’s health? The baby’s health? The pregnancy itself?” Of course there are factors to take into account when his wife’s body will be put under a lot of stress as it grows a new life inside it, but as long as she’s well taken care of and is comfortable, everything should go well. Aziraphale’s health has never been an issue, she is a strong, robust woman after all.

“Me. I am worried about me.” Now, to anyone else it would have sounded like such a selfish thing to admit, to worry about oneself when it is not he that will go through these next months with discomfort and whatnot, but to Babylon it makes startlingly amount of sense, and she feels her heart break for the man she has called brother for well over a decade now. He is not worried _about_ himself, he is worried about what kind of _father_ he will be, because he only has one father figure to go on himself, and that person had not been exactly ideal, not as a parent and not as a husband. Crowley doesn’t want to become that kind of man. Crowley _isn’t_ that kind of man, he’s proven that to everyone, but he himself seem to have some doubts now that they have come to this.

“Have you told Aziraphale about our father, how he truly was?” The man shakes his head. “Have you expressed any concerns to her?” He shakes his head again, and that makes sense. All Aziraphale knows is that Crowley’s father had been unfaithful and had a child out of wedlock with a servant, and that Babylon is that child. Crowley has, ever since finding that out himself when he was younger, held himself to a nearly impossible standard, and has more than proven to Aziraphale and her family and his own family that he will not be like that, he will not break his vows. Of course, one of the main differences is also that Crowley married Aziraphale out of love, while Crowley’s father married his wife for political reasons. There was no love, not even through their son. Yes, Crowley’s mother loved her son, but she did not love her husband.

“You have nothing to fear.” She tries to soothe him, but he scoffs, swiping his coloured lenses off and glares at her.

“How can you know? How can you know I am not exactly like that man? He was my father, his blood runs in my veins, how can you be absolutely sure that I am not exactly like him? That I won’t become exactly like him?” There’s a hint of despair and hopelessness in his voice, though he tries to mask it with anger, defensive as if he is daring her to even try and make him believe otherwise. When he also so desperately wants to believe he is nothing like his father.

“Because from the very moment I met you, you’ve been the complete opposite of that man.” Babylon says gently. Answering with harsh words will just escalate the delicate situation. If she grows just as angry as he is now, Babylon fears that he will shut her out, and that things will take a rather nasty turn just because he will try and keep to himself.

“How can you _know_ that?”

“Because you took me in.” She says, reaching out to take his hand in hers. “You found me in the stables, and you brought me inside to safety, gave me a home and a family. Any other son would have ignored my existence, would have me sent away or have me rotting in a ditch. Father ignored me, as soon as it was inconvenient for him to have me around he made sure to keep me out of his sight, and you forced him to see me, to take responsibility for his actions. Father was a pathetic bastard, but you are so far removed from him.” Crowley looks near tears as he swallows and Babylon feels her own eyes sting.

“You will never be anything like father was. You’re good and kind, you _love_ Aziraphale, and you will love and cherish and protect your child. You’ll be such a good father, you just have to believe in yourself, and _talk_ to Aziraphale about it. Let her know your concerns, so that you can work on them together. None of this will be easy on you, but you will make it, I know you can.” He pulls her close, clings to her something desperate as he shakes with repressed sobs. This must have weighted on him a lot lately, for however long they’ve known Aziraphale was expecting. To be haunted by the image of what a father has been presented to him to be, it must be terrifying. So Babylon lets him hug her for as long as he needs, and when the silence grows too heavy for her, she just can’t help herself from jabbing him in the side.

“Besides, Aziraphale would give you a whole speech of how disappointed and displeased she is with you should you ever do something so incredibly stupid as having an affair with a mistress, nor treat your child well. Your heart wouldn’t be able to take that.” He laughs wetly at that.

“However stupid our father was, the one good thing he did was helping bringing you into this world.” He says and she feels herself glow, happy that she is as precious to him as he is to her.

“What few minutes of effort he put in, at least.” Another chuckle leaves Crowley and Babylon pulls back, clasps his cheeks in her hands and gives him a stern look.

“Talk with Aziraphale. You know she can make you feel at ease, and guide you whenever you need it. I suspect she’ll need you just as much. You’re together in this, and don’t you dare forget it.” He seems to feel much better, though she can still see some doubt in his eyes, so she does the only thing she as a sister can do for him.

She punches his arm, _hard_.

“Bloody stable-“

“Silence, rich boy!” She stays for a few days, as Lucifer had made sure her presence wouldn’t be too deeply missed, before she returns to him and Warlock.

When the time has come, she receives a letter from the Crowleys, and she opens it during breakfast with her cousin and his son. She reads the contents out loud, can’t quite contain the grin at the sight of the excitement on both Lucifer and Warlock’s faces as they wait for her to tell them what they are all waiting to hear.

“Oh it’s a boy! They have a boy!”


	8. Chapter 8

What brings Crowley to full wakefulness is not the soft murmuring in the background, nor the little squeal following. What brings him back to the waking world is when he in his sleep turns in his bed, unconsciously reaching out for the other occupant and coming up empty. Aziraphale is not in bed. That is enough to pull him from his dreams and he blinks bleary eyes open and pulls himself up to look around.

Most parents in their time have a nanny to watch over their babes, to cater to the child’s needs during day and night so that the parents can get the proper amount of rest needed and do their work and social duties without interference. Aziraphale had very quickly decided that they were _not_ going to do that. This was _her_ son, _she_ is going to nurse him and care for him, just like she had when she had carried him in her womb. And Crowley isn’t capable of telling her no, not on such a matter.

Because she isn’t wrong.

So they have a crib in their bedroom, in where their son sleeps, and yes, sometimes sleep is interrupted because he wakes up in the middle of the night, but Crowley doesn’t much notice it because Aziraphale is quick to be by their son’s side whenever something comes up, but tonight, tonight he notices and tonight he wakes.

“Aziraphale?”

“Did we wake you, dearest? Cade was a bit fussy.” Her voice is quiet and he sits up properly, seeing her in her comfy armchair, nursing their boy. The picture is positively angelic. Their son has her blonde hair, but his yellow eyes. While he is so much like Aziraphale, there is a small part of Crowley in the baby boy too, and it warms the man’s heart.

“No, don’t worry, you didn’t. He’s hungry again, hm?”

“Insatiable.” She answers, but she doesn’t look bothered by it. She looks adoringly down at her son, like he is her entire world, and perhaps that is the truth, as his tiny little hands struggle to grip to her skin but feeding eagerly.

“Go back to sleep, Anthony. You’ll have a long day tomorrow.” He groans, because she is right. Despite being tired, he’d like to stay up with them until Aziraphale comes back to bed, but she is right, as she so often is. He has a long day of work tomorrow, and the better rest he gets, the quicker it will be done. He is not looking forward to all the meetings tomorrow will bring, but he offers her a sleepy good night for a second time that night and slips into sleep again.

The next morning he is awake before Aziraphale and Cade, and he quickly washes and dresses himself before he heads to his office to prepare for his meetings. The days pass where he only manages to meet them during dinner and quickly drop by to wish them good night, but finally, once everything is in order, he finds himself heading out to see Aziraphale in the garden, their son sleeping in his carriage as his mother reads and enjoys her tea. She lights up when she sees her husband strolling down towards them.

“Oh, darling, did you manage to catch a break?” He grins broadly at her as he dips down to press a kiss to her forehead.

“Even better. I am done.” He proclaims as he takes a seat and Aziraphale puts down her book, positively beams at him.

“How wonderful!” She exclaims, a bit too loudly, because suddenly there’s fussing and movement from the stroller and Aziraphale moves to get up, but Crowley is quicker, and is already by the stroller, picking Cade up. The boy is already crying, but he doesn’t need much gentle coaxing from his father to calm down again. He will not fall back asleep though, and tiny little finger scrabble at his father’s waist coat, so Crowley sits down with his son in his arms.

If Crowley thought the image of his wife holding their son close was as angelic as something ever could be, then it’s along the same lines of what Aziraphale thinks when she sees him holding Cade, a tiny little smile on his face he is most likely not aware he is making.

Aziraphale never doubted Crowley, not as a husband nor as a father, but to see him hold his son so close, to see him so at ease with him after how worried he had appeared to be during the whole pregnancy, which had been a mix of worry about Aziraphale’s physical state and his own securities which he still hasn’t told her about. He had admitted to having some worries about being a father, that he was worried that he wouldn’t be a good one, but he had never given her any indication about why he had such worries, only that he had them. And they had long talks about it, before the birth. Any worry Crowley had before Cade was born isn’t anything Aziraphale thinks he needs to worry about anymore. He is a wonderful father. Yes, he has work to do that takes him away every now and then, he has periods where he is confided to his office, but he always makes sure to take a few minutes to see them even during the busiest of times. And when everything is calm, he spends his every waking minute with them.

He adores Cade, loves him more than anything and it is so obvious. Even when Crowley dirties his fine clothes by kneeling in the grass and crawls around with his son, letting him climb on him and pull himself to stand up on his own two feet, a feat Cade had accomplished a few days ago. It still seems to amaze Crowley, and Aziraphale smiles, reaching for her tea. There she sits and watches the two of them, her book long forgotten, until lunch. Cade naps while they eat, and they relocate to the library afterwards, Aziraphale reading to her husband as he rests his head in her lap, feeling her fingers brush through his hair.

“I was afraid.” Crowley breaks the peaceful moment, and she pauses her reading, waiting for him to say anything more. “I was afraid of being a father.” Aziraphale puts down the book and offers Crowley her full attention. He’s kept this for himself for well over a year, only Babylon, and a few choice servants, truly knows the whole story, and Aziraphale who has been dealing with his insecurities and is the mother of his child deserves to know the truth.

“Why?”

  
“I was afraid I’d be a terrible one.”

“But you’re not.” She soothes him. “Why do you think you’d be a terrible father? All you’ve done is prove that you _are_ a good father.”

“You know about Babylon. You know she was born from a mistress my father kept on the side. I would never betray you, I swear, I love you and can never do anything that would hurt you so.” She smiles at him knowingly, like he doesn’t have to say it, that she knows it anyways. It’s such an amazing thing, to be married to such an amazing woman who is capable of loving him so sweetly, make him feel good and comfortable and confident in himself.

“But he was my father, the same blood that ran in his veins runs through me. I was worried I’d be just as much a disappointment as he was. I was worried, no, I _am_ worried that I will one day turn out to be just like him.” Aziraphale is glad he is telling her his worries, showing that he has given this some serious thought and is confiding in her. If it worries him so much, she doubts he will ever turn out to become what he fears. Because he will constantly keep checking himself to make sure he is who he wants to be.

“I don’t think you have to worry about anything.” She tells him, removing his glasses and making him look at her. “And should you stray from the path, I will lead you back to it.”


	9. Lilith

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which a younger Babylon stays with their cousins, the Morningstars

Lately, Babylon has been spending most of her days alongside Lilith, and the younger woman feels more and more anxious with each day that passes. Lilith was already rather pale when Babylon arrived just mere days before Warlock was born, but now she’s rather gaunt looking. Babylon learned from her brother that Lilith’s health had always been rather frail, but Lucifer had married her anyways, even if there was a chance she couldn’t give him any heirs. Lucifer’s parents had been against it, but when they passed away Lucifer went and proposed to her anyway. To Babylon that sounds like a rather romantic love story, unlikely to happen often in real life, and bittersweet to watch.

Crowley said she was pale and frail from before, and now Babylon is watching the woman turn even paler, frailer, sicker. It’s terrifying to watch, but even though it seems like Lilith is very much aware that her body is failing her, she also seems so happy. Especially when Warlock is crawling and walking all over her room and eager to hug her. There might be a comfort in it, Babylon thinks as she watches Warlock cling tightly to Lilith, her dark hair tangled in his tiny fists. Lilith managed to have something she never thought she’d be lucky enough to experience, and instead of complaining about her situation, she is just doing her very best to make the best out of the situation.

“Babylon, is something the matter?” The younger woman jolts back to reality, and flushes embarrassed when she realizes she had been spacing out.

“No, I’m sorry, Lady Lilith. I just got lost in thought. Here, please, I brought your medicine.” Babylon says as she puts down a glass full of water and a tiny little bowl of powder. Lilith motions for Babylon to take a seat and hands her son over before she swallows. She makes a grimace at the taste of it, Babylon can only smile as Warlock giggles at the sight. Lilith does it again and Warlock laughs louder, wriggling to get out of Babylon’s hold and crawl back to his mother.

“I’m glad you’re here, Babylon.” Lilith says when Warlock has tuckered himself out. The blonde blinks, surprised. Not that Lucifer and Lilith haven’t treated her as anything other than a precious family member (something she had not expected even when Crowley told her they would), but such a simple, innocent sentence makes her pause. It makes her happy to hear it though.

“Why is that, Lady Lilith?” The woman rolls her eyes.

“Stop that, I’ve said. You’re family.” Babylon feels the corners of her mouth quirk upwards a slight bit at the warmth from Lilith’s words as she lays her son down beside her and pull the sheets up to his chin.

“I’m glad you’re here because we need someone like you right now. If it weren’t for you, Lucifer wouldn’t be able to focus on his work, and he cannot let it grow any more than it already has. It is thanks to you that our lives can go on normally, and Warlock as well. I know our staff would do their very best, but I am more comfortable with having a family member helping out. I’m sorry for the trouble, but I am also very grateful.”

“You’ve not known me long.” Babylon says quietly. “Why would me being here make you feel better?”

“That’s a side of you I’d rather you throw away. You’re looking down on yourself, and I hope one day you’ll be able to stop doing that. You’ve been nothing but helpful and loving since you arrived, and we are very grateful for it. I and Lucifer have talked about it for some time now, and we hope that you’ll accept. If you’re willing, we’d like you to be Warlock’s governess when he grows older.” And again Babylon is taken by surprise. She is honoured, she does feel that she is gifted with something remarkably precious, something very important, and she realizes after some time that she is just gaping stupidly at Lilith. Babylon quickly shakes her head and tries to speak, but only stuttered syllables escape her. It seems to greatly amuse the dark-haired woman.

“No, wait, you can’t, I’m just, I’m from a peasant, surely you can’t believe that I am worthy of teaching Warlock anything-“ And the glare Lilith shoots her makes Babylon shut her mouth and sit ramrod straight.

“Stop saying such things about yourself. We trust you with this task because we find you very capable. Warlock loves you, and you love him just as much, it’s clear for everyone to see. And you’re remarkably bright, and, as you just said, you’re the daughter of a maid. The former Lord Crowley treated you horribly, but you’re still such an amazingly kind person. We want Warlock to understand what it means to be kind, and we think you can teach him that.” Babylon feels rather overwhelmed.

“Lucifer would need someone he can trust with Warlock’s well-being. We’ve had governesses ourselves who were not very good for us as children, we want someone we know will give him the affection and attention he needs, not someone who will scold him for not being the perfect student. Lucifer needs to know he can do what he needs during the day and know his son is safe.” The wording Lilith uses is not lost on Babylon, and her face twists in a grimace.

“But,” Lilith smiles down at her son as he turns in his sleep, babbling quietly, “After all, he only just turned two years old. You’ve got time to think about it, becoming his governess.” Babylon bows forward, biting hard on her lower lip as she tries to keep the tremble out of her body.

“Can I… Will you excuse me for a minute?” She asks, voice shaky and Lilith nods.

“Of course. Go on.” Every night Babylon goes to sleep for the next week, she lies thinking about the offer. It’s just an incredible thing, she thinks. They’re trusting her to such an extent. Of course, she’s been staying mostly with them since Warlock was born, because her brother thinks she’ll do well with staying with the Morningstars, their cousins, and Babylon must admit that while in the beginning it was rather intimidating since she hasn’t spent any time around nobles without her brother at her side, she has grown rather fond of this place. Crowley was right, as he is wont to be, she’ll do well here. So on the seventh morning, as she is dressed by her maids, she thinks that even though she still has a lot more time to think about the subject, she’d rather accept it. She’s got nothing to loose on it, after all, and she might find it very enjoyable. And she has no other aspects to look forward to. She has no intention of marrying anyone just yet, maybe not ever, so helping raise and educate a child might just be something she can do. She greets Lucifer at breakfast, but he’s alone there, informing her that Lilith had been rather tired this morning, and would like her breakfast in bed.

“I’ll bring it immediately.” Babylon tells him as she finishes her own breakfast, and a maid helps her carry the trays to the lady’s bedroom. Babylon knocks on the door.

“Lady Lilith? We’ve brought breakfast.” There is no answer, so Babylon opens the door carefully, and sees the woman resting on the bed. She motions for the maid with the tray to be quiet as they enter, and Babylon pulls open the curtains to let the sunlight in before heading over to bed to gently shake the woman awake.

“Lady Lilith, it’s morning, it’s time to wake up. I’d like to tell you that I-“ She stops short, swallowing as she tries one trembling shake of the woman’s shoulder.

“Lilith?” There is no response, and Babylon holds her hand over Lilith’s mouth.

“Call on Lucifer.”

“Lady Crowley?” The maid asks as Babylon looks up at her.

“Call on Lucifer. He needs to come here right now.” Understanding dawns, and the maid’s eyes widen before she hurries out of the room, the sound of her footsteps fading as she disappears down the halls. Babylon herself carefully pulls the blanket back and cups the woman’s cheek. Still warm, but there’s no rise and fall of her chest, no movement behind her eyelids, no life.

No Lilith.

“Lilith!” Babylon turns around, resignation in her eyes as Lucifer stands in the doorway, eyes wide and disbelieving as he stumbles over to fall beside the bed, hands reaching out to carefully hold his wife, whispering her name over and over again, as if begging her to open her eyes.

She doesn’t.

Babylon backs off, heading towards the doors and leaving, closing them just as the first few sobs escape her cousin. She takes a deep breath, before exhaling and turns to see a few of the household staff stand there, anxiously wringing their hands. They’re waiting for orders, for anything to do, any guidance even as they grieve themselves. Babylon doesn’t know what to do, what to say, she’s not a lady of this household, she doesn’t have any authority, that’s all Lucifer- A whimpering cry is heard inside and Babylon inhales a second breath, steeling herself.

“Call the doctor. There isn’t anything that can be done, but call the doctor anyway. Explain the situation, they… they can explain it better than me. Call the doctor, and Warlock, who’s with Warlock?”

“The nanny. They haven’t been told yet.” The butler says and Babylon nods.

“I’ll go there, I’ll tell the nanny. Warlock won’t understand, he’s too young. Also, someone, send a letter to Lord Crowley, tell him to come, urgently.” The servants hurry to do as told and Babylon heads down the hall, body moving on its own towards little Warlock’s playroom. When she opens the door, the nanny immediately understands just by looking at her that something is wrong. As Warlock plays by himself, Babylon informs the nanny, who shakes her head sadly.

“The lady has been ill since her childhood. It’s a miracle she lasted as long as she did, but at the very least, she managed to have a child and love him as she always wanted before her end.” It’s a weird thing to say, but Babylon understands. No one knew better how frail Lilith was than Lilith herself, and she knew that she put herself in danger by going through with the pregnancy, but she did it anyways. And during her time here, Babylon never once saw the older woman afraid or complaining. She just did the best she could, and that was remarkable in itself.

“Yes, I guess she did. If you want, I can stay with Warlock.” Babylon says and the nanny smiles at her.

“Why don’t we both stay? I think none of us should be alone right now.” And perhaps the nanny is right about that. Babylon has only had one important person in her life up until Crowley found her in the stables, and that was her mother, and she is long gone now. Lilith… Lilith had been a calm, lovely and gentle lady, someone who made Babylon feel safe. As she sits and watches the nanny take care of Warlock, playing with him, feeding him, singing and reading to him, she finds herself starting to understand how much she herself is hurting.

“Excuse me for a moment.” Babylon says as she hastily leaves the playroom, not noticing the nanny’s pitying expression before she’s out the door. She finds herself in her own assigned bedroom, and once the door is closed behind her, she only manages a few shaky steps before she sinks to the floor and begins to cry herself.

It’s not like she didn’t know where this was going, it’s not like she was blind to Lilith’s failing health, it’s not like she didn’t expect this to happen at any moment.

It still doesn’t hurt any less.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Please read the note at the very end.

Gabriel remembers the first time he met Beelzebub Prince. He had made a right fool of himself without meaning to, but with a great deal of effort from Lord Crowley, (which is one of the reasons Gabriel thought he was a good man), he had been gifted a chance to make up for his muck-up during their first meeting. The second meeting had gone much better. He had apologized for his behaviour the last time, and asked if Sir Prince would grace him with a second chance at doing business together, and to please correct him should he speak out of turn.

That meeting had gone much better, and he had learned very early on that Beelzebub was not a lady in a man’s garb, but a person who was neither man nor woman. He’d never heard of such a human being before, but he’d rather not insult them any further. Regardless of who or what Beelzebub Prince was, no one could deny that they are clever, and shrewder than any other businessman. And they come from a family with ties to the royal family. It makes them dangerous, and back then, and even now, Gabriel muses as he sits in his study, awaiting them, men of high standing ridicules them behind their back. All for their own vain pride, despite the very clear fact that not a single one of those men can stand up to Sir Prince when in the same room as them.

Well, not many of the men who had talked ill of them behind their back are still with their fortune, or noble standing for that matter. Those who still do, well, Gabriel thinks them rather foolish. Who’d still toy with fate so much when others have already fallen?

Gabriel respects people who are intelligent and decent, people who don’t believe themselves to be better than others out of pure arrogance or their status in society. Contrary to what many believes, a lot of people fit into the category for deserving Gabriel’s respect. Like Beelzebub Prince, Lucifer Morningstar and Anthony J. Crowley, to name some. Speaking of which, Sir Beelzebub Prince just walks into their office, short hair hidden beneath a rather dashing hat, a dark, well-tailored suit with a red embroidery of their family crest. Their expression is blank as they move into the room and takes a seat by Gabriel’s desk.

“So, your couzin will marry Lord Crowley.” There is no greeting, no pleasant formalities, just them getting straight down to business. Gabriel nods and waves his hand for the maid that slips inside, wondering if the lordships might want some refreshments. She disappears as quietly as she came, and the two are left alone again.

“Indeed. Did you come bearing any argument against the union?” Beelzebub snorts, rolling their eyes.

“It’s none of my businezz who marriez who, az long az she won’t addle his brain with foolish, romantic notionz and keep him from doing his work. I don’t need useless businezz partners.” Gabriel chuckles at that, knowing that Beelzebub won’t care either way. Still, he feels like he should assuage this ‘ _imaginary’_ fear of theirs.

“Not to worry. Aziraphale is a honest and hardworking individual herself. I think, should you meet her, you’ll actually come to like her.” Beelzebub wrinkles their nose, the very notion that they might actually like someone seeming to be very offensive. Gabriel three years ago would have tried to backtrack himself out of a situation where he thought he might have put his foot in his mouth. The Gabriel of now just smiles, hands folded on his desk, completely relaxed.

“Did you get an invitation to their wedding, then?” Gabriel asks and Beelzebub nods.

“Yes. Gaudy things. The only good thing coming out of this is the ridiculous amount of work Crowley is putting my tailor shop through.”

“Dagon is over the moon, then?”

“Disgustingly so.” Beelzebub may act rather disgusted with the whole affair, but Gabriel understands that they are indeed, in their own way, happy for Crowley and supportive, perhaps even relieved. After all, they are both quite close.

“Will you be attending?”

“Ugh, bloody weddings. A great, big, expensive party about nothing important and useless vows most break within the year of their marital bliss. I have better things to spend time and attention on than a gathering of witless fools sighing and fawning over an event no one truly believes in.” Beelzebub snorts derisively.

“I’ll see you there, then?”

“Obviously.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There we have that. Now, I have an idea including some drama with Bada and Babylon. Would anyone be interested in a few short chapters with them, before we get back to only Aziraphale and Crowley again?


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The drama begins

Aziraphale and Babylon are enjoying a stroll through St. James’ Park with the youngest Crowley. Cade is already a year and a half old, and when he grows excited in his stroller, the two adults find themselves a bench to rest on. Aziraphale brings the boy into her lap and they all enjoy the unusually lovely weather London is experiencing as the boy tears at the bun they bought from a bakery just outside the park.

Cade grows very interested in the ducks, so Aziraphale brings him over with a tiny piece of the bun they have. The boy squeals happily when the ducks swim over to snap up the pieces he throws into the water. It brings a mother comfort to see their child beam with such joy over such a simple thing. Once the bun is all gone, she brings Cade back over to the bench where Babylon is waiting.

“He’s getting to be so big already.” Babylon says wistfully as she lets the boy grab and shake her hand. It’s the same thing as with Warlock, with the exception that she has watched Warlock’s growth from the beginning. Cade grows ever bigger each time she comes by to visit.

“He’s growing far too quick, I agree. I fear I’ll blink my eyes and suddenly he’s an adult, and fathering children of his own.” Aziraphale jokes and Babylon laughs.

“Grandchildren for you to spoil, what an absolute horror that will be.” They’ve been chatting for some time when a shadow falls over them. When they look up, they see that it’s a man neither of them has ever met before, but the way he leers down at them makes Aziraphale uncomfortable, and she holds her son a bit tighter. Something is not quite right, but she is far too polite to tell the man to leave, especially since he hasn’t done anything yet.

“Lovely boy.” The man says.

“Thank you?” Aziraphale replies, a bit unsure. She was never happy to be noticed back in the day, before Crowley, but she decides she is not happy that her little boy is noticed by an adult that makes her skin crawl.

“He should have been mine.” The man says, and Babylon narrows her eyes, not liking where this is going. Aziraphale herself grows very annoyed and she narrows her eyes, glaring up at the man, her voice sharp.

“Excuse me?”

“My name is Sandalphon.” The man introduces himself. “I was your fiancé.” The one her father arranged for her when she was already engaged to Crowley, the man Aziraphale’s father planned on forcing her to marry. She never knew the man’s face, but she does now, and she isn’t surprised that it is a man as old as her own father leering down at her.

“I have never met you, been courted by you, nor accepted any proposal from you.” Aziraphale’s voice is like ice as she speaks as calmly as she manages. “I’ve had one engagement in my life, and I am happily married to the man who proposed to me.” She tries to be courteous, she tries to be the better person, but the man in front of her, Sandalphon, has apparently no limits to how low he will sink.

“How much more did he offer your father for you than I did? Or did you make yourself unsuitable to be married to any other than your current husband before you even donned your gown?”

_“I beg your pardon?!”_ She exclaims, shock written all across her features.

“How dare you!” Babylon is up on her feet in the matter of moments, and the man moves his attention to the other blonde.

“Your brother should pay me back for the wife he stole from me.” Sandalphon says and reaches for Babylon, whose expression is a twisted mix of disgust and raw fury. “A whore’s child you may be, but a quim is a quim-“ Cade starts wailing, noticing the negativity and discomfort and grows scared, and Aziraphale, while thoroughly shocked and scandalized over the man’s behaviour, freeze in her seat at the expression of pure, raw rage on Babylon’s face. She looks murderous, and about ready to snap, trembling as she tries to stand still and not lash out. Before Sandalphon can touch her though, someone else’s hand wrap around his wrist, stopping the man in his tracks.

“Who dares!” Sandalphon yells, and everyone follows the line of the arm of the intruder. It’s a tall man with dark hair, dark eyes, and clad in a cream coloured jacket and dark trousers.

“Sir, I’m respectfully asking you to leave these ladies alone.” The new man says, and Sandalphon moves as if he wants to jerk free, but is unsuccessful, the other man’s grip far too strong.

“Who do you think you are?” The older man nearly shouts, voice shrill.

“It doesn’t matter who I am.” The man says as he lets go of Sandalphon, and the older man stumbles backwards at the sudden freedom, nearly falling over with the force of his own pull.

“You’re making a scene.” Sandalphon cradles his wrist and looks around, seeing that quite a number of people are watching them. He straightens his back and scowls at them all before making a hasty retreat. Aziraphale finally manages to calm Cade down once the abhorrent man has left their presence and leaves it to Babylon to thank the new stranger. The younger blonde breathes in deep as she changes her posture from resembling that of a hostile animal and back to that of a noble lady.

“Thank you for intervening on our behalf, my lord.” She says and Aziraphale lets out a breath.

“No need to thank me, my lady. He was behaving terribly. Are you alright?” The man asks and Babylon looks to Aziraphale who stands up with a small smile, feeling much better now.

“A bit shaken, but otherwise we are tickety-boo. Thank you for your kind rescue, Lord…?”

“Bada Hathaway, my lady.” He bows his head.

“Aziraphale Crowley, and my sister-in-law Babylon. A pleasure.” Cade babbles and Aziraphale jostles him on her hip. “And my son, Cade.” Hearing their names, Bada seems to grow flustered.

“My lady, forgive me, I did not know who I was conversing with. My sincerest apologies!”

“You’re apologizing for coming to our aid?” Babylon raises a brow. “You’re an odd one, aren’t you?”

“I’m sorry.” He apologizes again and Aziraphale shakes her head fondly.

“No more apologies, my dear, you never needed to say even the first. We’d best head back. Say goodbye to the nice Lord Hathaway, Cade, darling.” The boy waves excitedly and Bada waves back, a bit more reserved, and then they leave the park and head on back home.

“We’d best tell Anthony about this quickly.” Babylon says. “I don’t know why that man showed up now, years after you and my brother got married, but I don’t like the entitled way he acted.” Not to mention, Aziraphale thinks, the way he spoke about Babylon and her mother. Babylon’s expression had been absolutely terrifying, and Crowley’s visage is no better when they explain what happened. Aziraphale has never seen her husband look so furious before, and Gabriel’s words to her father four years prior makes sense now. You simply don’t offend Crowley or anyone close to him.

“Are you alright?” He asks, seething as he looks them over for as much as a hair out of place. It’s good to know that this anger arose from fierce protective instincts from him.

“We’re quite alright. A young gentleman intervened on our behalf and sent Lord Sandalphon on his way.” Crowley nods. Like Babylon, he doesn’t like that this Sandalphon appeared out of nowhere, and he certainly does not like the sound of what had happened or what he had said. Crowley will have to have the man investigated, to figure out what the reason for this appearance means, but he’ll make arrangements for that afterwards.

“Who was it, who came to your rescue?” Aziraphale rolls her eyes at his dramatics, but Babylon answers before any retorts can be made.

“A Bada Hathaway.” Crowley mulls it over. Neither Aziraphale nor Babylon has heard that name before, but Crowley seems to have some knowledge of it.

“Lower noble family. They don’t actually live in London, they’re quite a bit further out, but I know they have a house in the city somewhere. We’ll invite them for our next event, as a thank you.” He says and the other two nods. That seems a fair deal. The man had been very knightly, after all. Hopefully Crowley won’t terrify the man though.

A couple of days later, the Crowley’s host a lovely tea-party, and all of the upper-class in London spreads themselves out through their lovely garden, gathering in small groups and chatting together while they wait for everything to be ready.

“There she is!” Aziraphale turns with a smile, accepting the embrace from her cousin.

“Gabriel! It’s been too long!” She laughs as he kisses her cheeks.

“Indeed! How are you? Lord Crowley sent me a letter, explaining what happened.” Of course he has, Aziraphale thinks. Hopefully Gabriel won’t worry too much about it. It is, after all, probably nothing more than an rather unfortunate encounter that probably will not happen again.

“Oh I’m quite alright.” She assures him. “There is nothing that man can do but use words. There’s no need to worry.” Gabriel visibly sags in relief, before beaming again.

“And where is Cade?”

“Napping.”

“Blast.”

“He’ll wake before this is over, don’t you worry.” Aziraphale laughs again and then the butler appears, telling her that their special guests have arrived. “Please tell my lord husband to come greet them with me.” The butler nods, and disappears as quietly as he appeared.

“You must excuse me, Gabriel, I must go welcome our honoured guests.” Gabriel lets her go, and she hurries to the foyer, arriving at the same time as Crowley. Together they greet the Hathaways, the Lord of the family expressing a deep gratitude to be invited to the tea-party, and introduces his two sons, Tristan and Bada, and his lovely wife, Adelaide.

“Please, come in, the party is in the garden. You’ll be seated at our table as our honorary guests.” Crowley welcomes them and they seem both deeply awed and flustered as they take their seats at the table. Babylon ends up on the opposite side of Bada, and she bows her head in greeting.

“Hello again, Lord Hathaway. I’m glad to see you could come.” She tells him.

“I’m thankful for having been invited.” Bada replied politely.

“It is a thank you for your help the other day. Your actions were quite chivalrous.”

“My son never told us that we were invited by something he did.” Lord Hathaway speaks up, and Babylon turns her attention to the other man, smiling kindly with a nod.

“My sister-in-law, the Lady Aziraphale here and I were enjoying a lovely afternoon at St. James’ Park when a most unpleasant man made an effort to utterly ruin our day. Your son intervened on our behalf and sent the man on his way.” Lord Hathaway sends his son a proud look, which Bada replies with a small nod and a barely-there smile. Once the man turns away, Bada’s smile turns bitter. Babylon notices and wonders why that is. The event goes smoothly, talks are had, Gabriel plays with a newly awoken Cade and the guests go home sated.

“Thank you again for the invitation, Lord Crowley. It was indeed a pleasant day for us.” While Crowley shakes hands with Lord Hathaway, Aziraphale bids Lady Hathaway goodbye, with a promise for invitations to smaller engagements in which they can get to know each other better. The other lady seems overjoyed at the prospect.

In the carriage on their way back, Lord Hathaway turns to his youngest son.

“You’ve done good, Bada. Now we have a foot into the lives of one of the oldest noble families in London.”

“Thank you, father.” Bada forces out. The compliment rubs him the wrong way, because this had never been Bada’s intention. He had hoped that him leaving the Crowley’s in the park without any more information than his name would have been the end of it. The higher ranked nobles don’t much care about the nobles of lower rank after all, but apparently the ladies in the Crowley family are of the honourable sort. He wishes they weren’t.

“Now, Tristan, Crowley’s sister remains unmarried. It is your duty to charm her, make her fall for you, and our status will rise. This is our chance.”

“Of course, father.” Tristan says, a self-assured smile on his face. Bada frowns, turning away from them. He wishes the Crowley’s hadn’t invited them for the party. Already his father is scheming to make a profit, how to raise his own status instead of just being thankful of what he has.

“Bada.” He turns towards his father again, catching his mother’s worried expression. “Don’t ruin this.” There’s a warning in the man’s eyes, and a part of Bada wants to rebel, to tell Lord Crowley what his father is planning, but the risks are too high. The repercussions will fall back on his mother, so Bada just nods.

“Of course, father.”

Back at the Crowley estate, Babylon and Aziraphale are in the sitting room, playing cards, while Crowley and Gabriel have retired to the redhead’s study. The game is a quiet affair, until Babylon breaks it.

“Did you notice the same things I did?” The younger Crowley asks and Aziraphale hums.

“There were so many things, you’ll have to elaborate. Was it the badly hidden bruise on Lady Hathaway’s cheek? The stiffness of our young hero’s shoulders? Or are you thinking about the way Lord Tristan was staring more at your cleavage than anything else and trying to get your attention at all times?”

“Ah, so you were paying attention.” Babylon pulls a card from the deck and adds it to her hand. She glances over her cards at Aziraphale, who hides her disgust at the whole ordeal rather well.

“They weren’t exactly the subtlest of hints. And the way Lord Hathaway demanded Anthony’s attention throughout the entire ordeal, tsk. He seems a bit dodgy, doesn’t he?” She wrinkles her nose as she draws another card, and tosses one onto the table.

“I think he’s a bit of a schemer. Not a good one, but a schemer none the less. I’ll figure out if they have an agenda or not before I go back to Lucifer and Warlock.”

“There’s no need to trouble yourself. I know the type Lord Hathaway is seemingly turning out to be.” Aziraphale says with a shrug and Babylon gives her a wry smile. Aziraphale notices and raises a brow.

“What?”

“Don’t misunderstand me, Aziraphale. I think the world of you, you know I do, but you are much too kind. Every time something like this has happened, you’ve only watched my brother pick the schemers apart like it was a part of the fine theatrical arts. You’ve never expressed any wish to participate, and isn’t that just fine? Not getting your hands dirty?” Aziraphale stays silent as she draws a new card, and then she looks Babylon straight in the eyes.

“Indeed, thus far I have only watched how Anthony plays the game, my dear, but if I think I watched only for entertainment you are very much mistaken.” She drops her cards onto the table and Babylon blinks, looking at the cards presented to her, then her own, before she lays down her own cards.

“Don’t underestimate me, Babylon darling.” The younger blonde huffs out a laugh as a manic smile spreads across her face.

“I stand corrected.”


	12. Chapter 12

Babylon has finished her errands for the day, but she doesn’t quite feel like going back to the estate just yet. Unfortunately, with the exception of a quick stop to the post office at the end of her trip, she has no reason to not go back home now, or so she thinks, until she sees Bada standing further down the street, reading the paper. That is just perfect, she thinks as she walks up to him, gently tapping him on the shoulder to get his attention.

“Lord Hathaway.” The man jumps startled and turns towards her, before releasing a sigh and relaxing. She almost laughs at the comical reaction. A jumpy person, this Bada. She can have all sorts of fun with that, if she so pleases, though in the end that also sounds rather cruel on her part.

“Lady Crowley, it’s a pleasure to see you again.” Somehow, she thinks his sentiment only sounds half-true. He seems rather nervous as she stares at him, seizing him up, and she takes pity as she gestures down the street.

“Won’t you accompany me for a cup of tea, Lord Hathaway?” He seems unsure for a moment, before nodding in agreement. With the stiff way he walks he could resemble a fly caught in a spider’s web, with her as the spider. Not a very flattering image, she thinks, but in a way, it’s also rather accurate.

“Of course, my lady. Lead the way.” She shows him to a café at the end of the street, and a waiter quickly appears to lead them to a table. The atmosphere is pleasant, if not a bit tense because of the way Bada doesn’t quite meet her eyes. But as Bada does everything he can to not look at her, Babylon does observe Bada. He’s nervous, uncomfortable, which doesn’t make much sense, unless he is intimidated by her noble standing. Unless there is something else. She puts down her tea-cup and resolves to get her answers without beating too much around the bush.

“Have I done something to offend you, Lord Hathaway?” He startles again, before hurriedly shaking his head.

“No, my lady, I’m sorry.”

“And there you go with the unnecessary apologies again.” She sighs and he apologizes again, before looking down in his lap.

“Your father is the scheming type, is he?” And the way Bada pales makes Babylon blink. He’s acting scared, ashamed, and she exhales. That’s all the answer she needs, isn’t it? She might have gone a bit overboard.

“Lord Hathaway, please, calm down.”

“I can do nothing but ask forgiveness, my father-“

“He’s not done anything yet, has he?” Bada pauses. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to frighten you. You’re just acting a lot like a friend of mine used to. Her father was scheming a lot as well, using her as a pawn, though in the end he wasn’t very good at it, only at causing her anxiety and pain. You just reminded me of her, a bit.” Bada visibly relaxes.

“Of course, now that I know for sure, I’d rather like to know what it is. Is your father a clever schemer?” Bada watches her for a few moments before shaking his head.

“My father isn’t subtle, at all. Anyone could figure out what he wants. But if I tell you, and he finds out…” As he is staring at the plate in front of him, he doesn’t see Babylon’s darkening expression. There are a few things she can guess from this, and that is that Bada is ashamed of his father’s new little scheme, but at the very same time he can’t do anything about it. Perhaps it is some kind of loyalty to a man that may not be entirely deserving of it, or it is loyalty to a person most deserving of it. Right now, she can’t figure it out, but her brother has a plan of his own, and her time in London is almost up.

“Well.” She clears her throat. “I do like playing games. And just because your father is scheming, it doesn’t mean we cannot become friends, hm?” The man manages a tentative smile, and pauses when Babylon rummages through her purse.

“I was going to post this at the post office, but since I met you here, I’ll hand it over to you personally right now.” She says and hands him a letter with the Crowley insignia on it.

“It’s for you.” He can see that, his name is written on it with a rather remarkably bold calligraphy. He opens it and looks through the contents. The Lord Crowley requests a meeting with him, three days from now.

“What’s this?”

“You’ll have to ask my brother.” Babylon says as she stands up from her seat. “Don’t worry, he doesn’t bite. Much.” Perhaps that too was a bit too much, but she’s having so much fun. Bada seem like such a pure human, and that interests her.

* * *

Three days later, Bada arrives at the Crowley estate, with Tristan marching ahead of him, self-assured as ever. It irritates Bada. The letter had mentioned only him, but their father had urged Tristan to follow along, claiming it’s because he wants Bada to feel supported. More like to further his own goal. To have Tristan get close and charm Babylon Crowley. Somehow, Bada doesn’t think that will ever happen. Babylon doesn’t seem like a woman who can be so easily won over, and neither is she someone he thinks Tristan can handle. Not properly, the way she should be. Tristan is used to women fawning over his good looks, and Bada doubts that will happen here. The blonde is sharp-witted, perceptive, headstrong. They’d never get along, his father would never allow a woman in his household to be like her.

When they arrive, the butler meets them and raises a condescending brow.

“Tell your lord that the Hathaways are here!” Tristan announces with a flourish, and the man stares at him.

“I’m well aware that Lord Bada Hathaway was to come today. I shall have to ask the Master where to bring you. Please, wait here.” Tristan seem a bit surprised that a servant of the household would speak in such a way to him, before sighing.

“I’ll have to fire him.”

“Fire who?” Bada asks, incredulously.

“That butler. Servants can’t speak to guests like that.”

_‘You weren’t even invited!’_ Bada thinks, but says:

“And _how_ can you fire him?”

“When I’m the master of the house, of course.” Tristan looks at Bada as if he’s stupid, and Bada wants to ask his brother how arrogant he can be, thinking he can be the master of the Crowley household when the Lord of the house is still young, and has an heir, even. Babylon isn’t the heiress to this household, that is Cade Crowley.

“When is that supposed to happen?”

“All in due time, little brother.” Bada doesn’t like the sound of that. It seems his father and Tristan has made more plans, without involving him. Bada wouldn’t have minded before, he wants nothing to do with their schemes, but after that outing with Babylon, in which he realized that she had picked up that something was amiss, and her kind offer of being friends, at the very least despite the motives of Bada’s family… He doesn’t want to be part of anything his father and brother come up with, but he’ll be seen as an accomplice either way, should they be exposed. If it wasn’t for his mother…

The butler suddenly returns, alongside his lord.

“I’m glad you could come, Lord Hathaway. I have a proposition for you.” Crowley shakes Bada’s hand, before turning to Tristan. “Though I am unsure of what brings you here?”

“Well, father thought I should come along, just for support. Don’t mind me, I’ll just wait here, if you’ll allow it?” Crowley nods before he leads Bada away from the foyer.

Tristan waits until they’re out of sight before he begins wandering around. He has plans for today. He’ll charm the Lady Babylon, an easy task to be sure, and then he’ll have started the groundwork for courtship, which will be another short affair, surely, then marriage. And he will be an heir to the Crowley fortune. He catches a maid as she heads down the hall with a basket full of linen, and asks her where the Lady Crowley might be.

“In the library, my lord. Follow me, if you’d please.” The maid leads the way and gestures to two heavy oak doors before she curtsies and leaves him behind.

_‘In the library? Why would a woman be here?’_ He thinks, but opens the doors, and is surprised to see Aziraphale, and not Babylon. Even more so when he sees and hears her haggle with a trader.

“Absolutely not. The tome is worth well beyond what you’re offering me here. I will not sell it for a pound less of its worth, and I certainly won’t sell it without insurance that it will be well-preserved.” Aziraphale says sternly, holding a old-looking book in her lap.

“You strike another hard bargain.” The merchant sighs. “Motherhood hasn’t softened you one bit, my lady.” Aziraphale grins something sharp.

“You’d have hated it if I did. Now, do we have a deal, or shall I put it back on the shelf?”

“Yes, we have a deal. I’ve also heard rumours of that one first edition you’ve sought is nearby. Would you like for me to see if there’s any truth to the rumours, and bring the book if it is?”

“If you would be so dear, then I’d like to commission you to find it for me, yes.” She answers, and the merchant nods.

“A fine wife the Lord found in you.” The woman blushes at the compliment, then the two notice Tristan standing by the doors.

“Ah, Lord Hathaway.” Aziraphale greets. “What brings you to our home?”

“I was looking for your sister-in-law. I should have specified it to the maid who led me here.”

“Ah, quite. Well, I’m afraid she’s not here now. She’s visiting Sire Prince. Would you like for me to give her a message upon her return?”

“Oh, no. I’ll come back later. I’d like to do it myself.” Aziraphale regards him for a moment. Bold of him, she thinks, to assume he can come and go as he wants.

“I’m afraid you won’t be able to. Babylon will leave London once she returns from Sire Prince’s residence, and head out to her cousin, Lord Morningstar. She was only in London for a short visit, you see.” Tristan blinks.

“The Lady doesn’t live in London?”

“No, she resides in Oxford.”

“Oh. Well, I’d just wanted to speak some with her. But if I won’t have the time for that, then I’ll just have to find another way. Good day, Lady Crowley. No need to see me out.” Aziraphale nods and the man closes the doors behind him.

“The women here don’t behave like they should. I must change that too.” He mutters as he heads back to the foyer. Tristan comes from farther out of London, he likes to think that he knows how the high born city nobles think and act, and maybe he does, but there is one thing he doesn’t know, and that is:

The walls have ears, and in the estate of the Crowley family, the walls are loyal.

His father’s joy at Bada having been requested to work for Crowley is somewhat muted, though that is because he’d rather hoped for Tristan to gain such an opportunity, not Bada.

“Well, at least with all the travelling he’ll have you do, you won’t get in the way of Tristan courting his sister.” Bada wonders how Tristan will manage that, when Babylon isn’t even in London, but way out in Oxford. Crowley had warned him there would be a lot of travelling, and that is fine with Bada. It makes him a bit worried for his mother though, but this is an opportunity of a lifetime for him too. All offered to him just because he was at the right place at the right time. How can he say no?

Back at the Crowley estate, Aziraphale and Crowley are having a late dinner.

“What did you get out of the young Lord?” Aziraphale asks and Crowley grabs his wine glass.

“Well, from his body language whenever his family was even just mentioned, I’d say he’s either scared of them or dislikes them greatly. He’s a good lad himself though, honest and compassionate, and eager to work. And you? What did you learn about his brother?” Aziraphale smiles. Of course he had heard of that.

“He was looking for Babylon. It’s obvious what he wants, both their father and his brother are just like my father, out to gain. Rather optimistic of them, I’d say. Babylon won’t show any interest in that kind of man, though of course, the young man won’t understand why, I’d wager.”

“True. A little bird told me that the Lord Tristan kept on muttering rather loudly to himself in our halls, about the changes he will make here, and how women should behave.”

“Babylon was right, then. Neither clever nor subtle.” Aziraphale hums, taking a sip of her own wine.

“No, Babylon would never marry someone like that, and I’d never force her to either, if she ever does marry. The second son, on the other hand…” Aziraphale blinks as her husband muses out loud, before she puts down her cutlery and links her fingers together, resting her chin on them.

“Are you playing at cupid, husband?” Crowley grins.

“I’m giving the lad an opportunity, nothing more.” Aziraphale grins too, just as mischievous as her husband. Their opinion on the Hathaways’ are the same, and they’ve agreed to play the game. If Lord Hathaway is going to try his hand at anything, they will play along, and show him just how out of his league he is. Aziraphale has watched both Crowley and Gabriel play this game several times before over her years here in London, and now she wants in on it.

“Be careful, yes? Don’t play too much with the young lord, and Babylon, lest you suffer her wrath.” Aziraphale advices her husband.

“I’m not playing them, I’m playing the lad’s family.” Crowley defends himself and Aziraphale raises a brow as she grabs her fork and knife again.

“Indeed, you’re having fun with this setup already, but I can hear the gears turning in your head as you talk about Babylon and Bada, my dear.” She tells him and he leans back in his seat, arms draped over the armrests as he tilts his head.

“And you, Aziraphale? Are you having fun?” She hums thoughtfully.

“Hm, well, even if they’re the ones who started it, it does feel awfully cruel, doesn’t it?” Crowley considers this. He’s never tried to keep Aziraphale out of settings like these in the past, but she had kept out of it out of her own volition. She’s too kind for it, he thinks, before she releases a giggle.

“But it’s also so much fun!” Crowley smirks.

“Hiding behind an angel’s face is quite the devious woman, hm?”


	13. Chapter 13

Babylon looks over Warlock’s shoulder, notices how he’s squinting his eyes in effort as he reads. With a small smile she lays a hand on his shoulder to shake him out of it. He looks up, blue eyes wide, wondering what she wants when she’s been watching him read for such a long time. And he has been reading for the better part of two hours, only answering a few questions here and there as she had asked them.

“You’ve done well, Warlock. Let’s have a small break, hm? Let’s go outside in the garden, and have a snack before we continue your lesson?” Warlock brightens up at the concept of going outside and he nods vigorously.

“Yes, please!” Babylon takes a step back to allow him off of his chair, and the eight-year old races past her and out the door. With a fond chuckle, she follows, though in a much more subdued manner as she has to find someone to bring them the snacks she has promised him, and something to drink. She doesn’t doubt that the boy might exhaust himself while playing games, and it’s important that he gets enough food and drink in him. When Babylon finally locates the boy in the garden again, he’s already climbing a tree, a tree which he knows he’s not allowed to climb. She frowns as she lifts her skirts and walks over briskly.

“Come down from there at once, my little mockingbird. You know you’re not allowed to climb that tree.” Warlock pouts at her, but Babylon has been subjected to these expressions for years now, and she stands steadfast as she patiently waits for the boy to listen to her. Finally, he carefully slides down.

“Is it because it’s my mother’s tree?” He asks as he walks over and grabs her hand, and she smiles down at him.

“No, it’s because you could hurt yourself.” She tells him and turns to pull him along further into the garden, thinking of what kind of game they can play. They don’t get too far.

“Why did my mother die?” The questions throws Babylon off balance. Warlock has asked about Lilith before, he has a portrait of her in his quarters, he knows what she looks like, how she was like, how much she loved him, but this… What is she supposed to say? In all reality, this is a question Lucifer should be answering, but he is currently out, and Warlock is looking up at her with such a pleading expression… She leads him to sit with her beneath Lilith’s tree, pulling the boy into her lap.

“Babylon?” Warlock asks.

“Your mother was very ill.” Babylon begins. “She’s always been weak because of it, and one day it was too much. She fell asleep and didn’t wake up again.” Warlock is eight, perhaps the truth is just too much for him, Babylon worries as the boy looks down for a few moments before looking up again.

“Does that mean she will be dreaming forever?” And that is a rather sweet thing to think.

“Perhaps. What I know with a certainty is that she is watching over you and your father.”

“Because she loves us?” Babylon nods.

“Yes, because she loves you both very much.” Warlock nods and looks up at the tree, pondering something.

“So, maybe she is in her tree, now?” Warlock’s words are so pure and wondrous, so how can Babylon say he is wrong? The boy might even be correct, no one knows where the souls of the departed go with absolute certainty. Warlock’s belief in how things are is a comfort thought, and she’d like to embrace it. At least like this, Warlock can believe that his mother is always with him, even if he can’t remember her.

“Did she use to sing me lullabies, like you do?”

“Yes.” Babylon confirms. “She taught me your favourites.”

“Oh.” Warlock hums before looking at Babylon. “Am I ill?”

“No, no you’re perfectly healthy, my little mockingbird, just like your father.” The woman assures him and the boy grins.

“I want my snacks!” Babylon laughs, but lets the wriggling child out of her lap and follows him to the patio. They have to wait a little bit, but she keeps him entertained with answering his questions about everyone in London. Then, once both snacks and drinks arrive and have been consumed, they go back to studying. Lucifer doesn’t return by dinner, something that causes a negative impact on Warlock’s earlier cheer, but when Babylon sits by the side of the boy’s bed, having tucked him in and ready to sing him a lullaby, Lucifer enters his son’s chambers. Warlock brightens up considerably, and Babylon leaves the room to give them their privacy. She moves to the sitting room and enjoys the silence for many long minutes.

And then Lucifer is there, pouring himself a tumbler of whiskey. Babylon waits for him to speak up first. He looks exhausted, like he’s barely standing up on his feet. When he collapses onto the settee, her suspicions are confirmed.

“Warlock asked you about Lilith.” It isn’t a question, it’s a statement. Warlock must have told Lucifer all about his day and discoveries, but what son wouldn’t when he finally got to see his father at the end of such an adventurous day?

“Was I out of line with my answer?” Lucifer barks out a strained laugh.

“No, no it was a good answer, better than what I would have come up with.” He looks torn and sad and exhausted. “It’s been six bloody years, and I can still barely keep myself together whenever someone mentions her. I’m a wreck and I’ve stopped thinking I’ll ever get over it.” He rubs a hand over his face with a shaky sigh. It is quite understandable that he feels so strongly about this. After all, he loved her with all his heart, went against his parents’ wishes and married the love of his life, he did what very few in his position can do. He knew she was ill, knew her body was brittle and frail, but he chose her anyway. Just because it wasn’t a shock that she died young, it doesn’t mean that the loss was any less devastating.

“If I may, Lucifer.” Babylon straightens in her seat. “We’re not supposed to get over the deaths of our loved ones. It’ll always hurt. Instead, shouldn’t we treasure the memories we’ve made, and do as Lilith herself did? Make the best out of it?” He considers her words before taking a sip from his drink.

“You always know what to say.” Babylon scoffs.

“Most of the time I’m afraid I stick my foot up my mouth.”

“Put your foot in your mouth.” Lucifer corrects her and she harrumphs. Lucifer laughs at that, and the woman is glad to see it. He seems a little bit better.

“I’m glad you stayed. I doubt I would have managed on my own.”

“I think you would have done well without me, cousin.” Babylon says with the utmost conviction and Lucifer looks at her like he is desperate to believe her, but just can’t find it in himself to do so. He needs reassurances.

“Because you love Lilith and Warlock with all your heart, that’s why I believe you would have managed.” Lucifer stares for a moment before bringing up a hand to cover his eyes.

“Don’t you make me cry too.” She can’t help but smile at that.

* * *

The next few days are rather uneventful, until she and Warlock take a day off to play in the nice weather. She and the boy are playing tag and Babylon has gathered her skirt in her hands as she playfully runs from the boy, giggling every time the boy leaps at her and she spins away.

“I’ll get you!” Warlock calls.

“We’ll see.” Babylon sing-songs and ducks away once more, only to run straight into someone. She stumbles, only just managing to not fall over as she lifts her hands to brush her hair out of her face. She blinks, before a weight rams into her legs and she can hear Warlock’s victorious cry and she wavers a bit before managing to fully get a grip on her balance.

“I caught you!” Warlock exclaims and she looks down over her should, grinning at him.

“Indeed you did, but look who we ran into.” The boy blinks and moves around Babylon’s skirts. A happy smile spreads across his face and he bounds away.

“Father!” As Warlock receives a pat on the head, Babylon fixes her dress and hair. It’s one thing to appear dishevelled in front of family, it’s another thing entirely to appear so in front of guests.

“I did not know we were expecting guests, Lord Lucifer.” Babylon says. She had expected her brother sometime during the week, not lord Bada Hathaway.

“Lord Hathaway here is an envoy for your brother.” Babylon stares for a moment, before raising a brow. Her brother has hired the youngest son to work for him? It’s an incredible opportunity for the young man, indeed, but she wonders what her brother gets out of it. It’s probably a part of his move in the game.

“I’m happy for your sake, Lord Hathaway.”

“Thank you, Lady Crowley.” Bada replies, a small smile on his face. It’s the first one she’s seen that hasn’t been marred by stress or fear.

“Ah, you know each other, splendid. Lord Hathaway will be staying for some time.” Lucifer informs her and she nods.

“I hope you’ll find your stay here comfortable, Lord Hathaway.”

“Thank you. Ah, before I forget, Lady Crowley, I have a letter for you, from my brother.” He pulls an envelope out from the inside of his coat pocket and holds it out for her to take. She tilts her head, but accepts it, looking over it.

“Why would your brother send me a letter? I’ve hardly spoken with the man.” Bada suppresses a grimace, well aware of the fact, and also most of the content of the letter as well. He is embarrassed on his behalf, but at this point, Bada doubts that Tristan is capable of feeling as such.

“Thank you. Warlock, come along, you need a bath.”

“But father just came back!” Warlock objects, but his father leans down.

“Once you’re clean, you can come to my study and stay with me.” The boy brightens up at that, and grabs Babylon’s hand, tugging her eagerly towards the estate. Once she has handed the boy over toe a servant, she returns to her own chambers, and opens the letter. The contents are… well, it’s quite telling what kind of person Tristan Hathaway has been raised to be, and what this correspondence he’s trying to start means. Babylon holds the paper over a lit candle and watches as it turns to ash, before dropping it into her cold fireplace. It’s not the first letter of such nature that she has received, and it’s certainly not the first one she has burned. There’s not much consequence in doing so, it’s her right to say no.

* * *

“Do you think Babylon will catch on?” Aziraphale asks, seated by her vanity and brushing her hair.

“There’s nothing to catch on.” Crowley says as he slips into bed.

“Hm, it sounds like you hope she won’t, more like.” Aziraphale chuckles as Crowley frowns. “I won’t tell her if you won’t dearest.” She adds as she moves over to get into bed beside him.

“I’m just telling you not to meddle too much.”

“I’m not meddling.” Crowley argues. “I employed the man, and I’m sending him to others in my place so I can be here with you and Cade. That his first trip happened to be at Lucifer’s estate where Babylon is residing is just pure coincidence.” He says as she snuggles up to him.

“Let’s hope Babylon sees it the same way.”

“I’m not playing Babylon.” Crowley assures her. “Bada is a good man. I’ve just made sure that Babylon can get to know such a man. It’s all up to her, I’ll never force her to marry anyone. If she wants to stay alone, I’ll leave her be, but I’m giving her an opportunity to think about it.”

“His family might not be that good.” Aziraphale warns him, thinking of the bruise on Lady Hathaway’s cheek, Tristan’s behaviour when he was searching the estate for Babylon, Bada’s obvious shame when his family was ever mentioned, and Crowley nods.

“It’s not like I’ll marry her off into a family. If push comes to shove, to protect her, I’ll have whoever she marries become a Crowley.” Aziraphale smiles as she reaches up to tap his chin.

“You are, really, such a good and kind man.”

“M not kind.” He mutters and her smile widens.

“Of course not, darling.”


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pinkpiggy93 made an absolutely amazing artpiece from a part of this chapter. It's absolutely gorgeous! 
> 
> Link: https://pinkpiggy93.tumblr.com/post/627692459798003713/show-chapter-archive

The royal family is holding a ball. It’s a ball to celebrate the engagement one of the princes has entered into. It’s not the first-born son, the heir to the throne, but the family is most likely going to make this an absolutely extravagant spectacle nonetheless, Aziraphale thinks. All nobles, from the highest born to the lower born nobles, from both inside and outside of London, have been invited, and so it is of no surprise to Aziraphale to see the Hathaway family enter the ball room, with Lord Hathaway and his first-born, whom both are dressed more to impress than either his wife nor second son appear to be. It’s such an obvious display of the lord’s priorities she nearly feels embarrassed for them, were it not for the fact that it seems like Bada and his mother seem to want to fall through twin holes in the ground.

It’s such a terrible thing to see. It’s even worse to think that Aziraphale herself might have ended up in such a relationship were it not for her late mother, God bless her soul.

“There he is.” Crowley says quietly and Aziraphale sees Gabriel move through the crowd towards them. She feels instant relief. It has been such a long time since she last saw him, swamped with work and traveling so much around as he has. Then there is the fact that he is looking into why Sandalphon appeared out of nowhere in St. James Park and harassed them. Perhaps he has learned something.

“Lord Crowley, Aziraphale.” He greets and they return the sentiment just as warmly.

“Have you heard from Michael?” Aziraphale asks and Gabriel nods. News, at last. Aziraphale misses Michael something fiercely, and now that her younger sister is married, to a good man even, they might be able to start meeting again, as their father is no longer a part of the picture and can’t ruin anything ever again. She’ll have to send the younger woman a letter, asking if they can’t meet soon.

“Sandalphon is indeed working with your father. Michael is not aware of what their plan is, as her reach is limited now that she doesn’t live in the same house as the man but with her spouse, but it’s obviously something sinister.” Aziraphale doesn’t like the sound of that. She likes none of this at all. Why now? Years after she got married to Crowley? What could they want now? Her husband squeezes the hand at the crook of his elbow.

“It’ll be alright, Aziraphale.” He assures her. “We’ll get to the bottom of this.” She smiles her appreciation at him. It eases her worries to know she has a husband who loves her so much he’ll do anything to make her feel safe. It eases her worries greatly to know that he takes her concerns to heart, instead of with a grain of salt, that he doesn’t think her a silly woman at all.

“Tonight, we enjoy the ball.”

“Hm, so you say, but I can tell you’re planning something.” He presses a hand above his heart, eyes wide behind his glasses.

“You wound me!”

“But am I wrong?” Crowley chuckles, and cedes her point.

“I’d ask you not to be jealous, as I’m hoping for a dance with Lady Hathaway, to see if I can learn something.”

“Becoming jealous would mean I am even the slightest bit worried about your fidelity.” Aziraphale says, patting his arm and her husband brings her hand up to lay a kiss on the back of it, all teasing set aside and his words coated with all the sincerity he can muster up.

“That, my love, is something you’ll never need to worry about.” Soon they’re joined by Lucifer and Babylon, and the group is almost complete. They are missing one, but they all doubt they will see that person before later on in the evening.

“Oh Babylon, your dress is simply astounding.” Aziraphale gushes. Normally Babylon arrives at these events dressed in Crowley’s darker colours, but today she is dressed in a light yellow dress with white trimmings and bows, her hair put up into a big braided bun, probably hosting more pins in it than necessary to keep it up, with a few loose curls framing her face. She is also wearing a pair of beautiful pearl earrings and a wide double pearl-necklace.

“Thank you, Aziraphale. I must admit, I feel a bit out of sorts in such light colours, but I hope I’ll get used to it.”

“Oh my dear, the colours suit you, they really do.” Aziraphale assures her, and Babylon nods in thanks. While Babylon’s dark dresses have always been fashionable and bringing out her beauty, Aziraphale also used to think that they were too dark for her pale skin. Crowley’s skin is sun kissed, like he used to work outside in the sun a lot as a child, but Babylon’s skin is pale, like Aziraphale’s.

“Now, dear brother, how is Hathaway as your assistant? Is he valuable?” Babylon asks. It’s been four months since Bada showed up at Lucifer’s estate the first time, and Babylon has learned much about him and his family. Bada has come to trust Babylon, and she’s come to understand that he truly is a good person, and a pleasant conversationalist.

“Doing a good job, the lad. Earnest and hardworking. What do you think, Lucifer? You had him working with you the few times he was in Oxford.” Lucifer grins.

“He did well, and was eager to learn.” The man nods his approval. “If you ever let him go, send him my way. I could use someone like him.”

“When hell freezes over.” Crowley answers. Having Bada in his employ ensures that Crowley can stay more at home with his family, he’ll never give that one up. Not while Cade is so young, only when Cade is old enough to start learning and going with him. Maybe not even then.

“Here they come, dear.” Aziraphale warns them, and notices as the Hathaway family nears them that the Lady Hathaway is limping. It’s slight, barely noticeable, but it’s there. She’s slightly leaning on her son as well.

“My lords!” Lord Hathaway greets. “It’s a pleasure to see you again.” This he says despite the fact that he has never met Lucifer before.

“Likewise, Lord Hathaway.” Crowley replies, though not putting much feeling in it. Tristan smiles charmingly at Babylon, who shifts a little bit closer to Lucifer, engaging him in conversation in a not so discreet way to ignore the other man. As if to save them from any more chatter, the music starts up, and Crowley turns to Aziraphale.

“Shall we?” Lucifer holds out his arm for Babylon, who curtsies and accepts. They’re out on the floor and the moment they begin the dance, Babylon trusts Lucifer to lead her as she scans the room. There are a lot of people here, both from London and from further out, like Lucifer. Well, celebrating the engagement to one of the sons of the royal family is an excuse to go all out.

“Bada’s brother is following us.” Lucifer murmurs and Babylon sighs.

“One would think that me not answering his twenty-three letters would be a rather straight forward answer.”

“Was each and every one of them such a disaster?” Lucifer asks and she rolls her eyes. She should have let him read them, perhaps he would have taken proper pity on her.

“He fancies himself a poet. Which he truly is not.” Lucifer barks out a laugh.

“Who truly is?”

“Not Tristan Hathaway. Even my brother could do better.” Lucifer winces, knows well and truly how god-awful Crowley is at poetry, even when he tried his best in his younger days. He never truly thought anyone could be worse than that. The song isn’t a long one, it’s just to get people to flock to the floor, and once it ends, Lucifer relinquishes her after asking if she needs him to run interference. She declines, telling him she’ll handle this on her own.

“Run, be free.” He jests and she rolls her eyes again, but quickly leaves the dancefloor. She doesn’t much like to dance, or rather, she enjoys dancing, she just doesn’t like the shallow compliments and terrible attempts at wooing her. So she only dances with family and friends. It is a well-known fact that she doesn’t dance much at such events. For everyone but Tristan Hathaway, apparently. She’s sipping on a glass of champagne when he moves to stand beside her.

“You look positively gorgeous this evening, Lady Crowley.” Already he is smearing it on thick.

“Why, thank you, Lord Hathaway.” She accepts the compliment but offers none of her own. In her opinion, he is like a peacock, and not the flattering kind. The blue he is dressed in is a lovely colour, but with the amount of silver embroidered into it, and the ridiculously big cufflinks and, well, it’s just too much. He has obviously dressed to impress, both him and his father who is dressed almost the exact same way, but it’s not doing much to compliment his mother and brother’s own outfit, which are of much lighter colours and almost no jewellery or embroidery. If she has to choose, she favours Bada’s colours, the white pants and shirt with the dark waistcoat and cream coloured coat. It suits the atmosphere of the ball more than Tristan’s bold appearance. They’re not matching at all. It’s like they’re saying that only the lord and the first son is of any importance. Ridiculous. With this act, they’re showing that they are of a lower noble family.

“I’ve sent letters, if you’d forgive me being so bold, but I fear none of them reached you.” But all of them did, each one more ridiculous than the last. Now, what to answer? Feign ignorance, or shut him down as viciously as she can, because she desires to do so. Though how well will that go for Bada and his mother? Sometimes, Babylon wishes she was as shallow as many other women in this circle. At least then she would only care about herself.

Damn Anthony for raising her to be kind.

* * *

The moment the first song is over, Crowley leaves Aziraphale with Gabriel and seeks the lord and lady Hathaway out. He slithers over, all charming smile and a bow to the wife.

“Lord Hathaway, may I have just one dance with your Lady wife?” The man seems flabbergasted, enough so that Crowley can whisk the lady with him without a fuss onto the dance floor. Crowley quickly realizes that the lady is having some trouble keeping up and he eases the tempo a little bit. She appears to be a nice lady, and Crowley isn’t going to judge without at least knowing a little bit about her. He doesn’t feel particularly threatened by Lord Hathaway, but he also doesn’t much like the few things he, Aziraphale and Babylon has noticed. The few things Babylon has managed to coax out of Bada isn’t particularly good either, and no matter what Lord Hathaway envisions for his family’s future, Crowley isn’t going to give it to him.

“Your son has been a tremendous help to me, Lady Hathaway. You’ve raised him well.” The lady smiles demurely, bowing her head in thanks for the compliment.

“Thank you, Lord Crowley. Bada speaks highly of you. He is most grateful for the opportunity you’ve provided him, as am I.” She replies.

“Because it gets him out of the house?” The way the woman’s eyes widen is admission enough, that she understands the meaning of his words. She is quick to mask it.

“My wife is quite perceptive. Please be calm, I’m not out to out you. May I ask a few questions? It’s up to you whether or not you answer.” The woman looks uncomfortable for a moment before nodding.

“No need to panic. I quite like your son, and he is fond of you. I have no intention of putting the two of you in trouble, so please, be calm.” Another nod as Crowley turns them with the rest of the dancing crowd.

“It’s quite obvious your husband favours your oldest, and that he’s very interested in my younger sister. Is the plan having your son marry my sister?” Lady Hathaway nods.

“Was he displeased with me employing your youngest?”

“A little.” This is easier than he thought it would be, Crowley thinks as he leads her through the dance. Which is a bit suspicious in itself.

“Does your husband have a temper?” She gives him a slower nod this time, clearly hesitant to reveal such a thing. How long has it been like this, Crowley wonders? Was it always like this from the very beginning, or did it gradually become a part of her life?

“Lady Hathaway, are you in danger in your own household?” She gives him a brittle smile.

“Lord Crowley, I am forever trapped to that man. If you truly cherish your sister, do not let your sister marry Tristan, he will do everything in his power to remake her to suit his own tastes, like I was. And you owe me nothing but allow me to ask this favour of you; save my Bada.” The song ends, and the two bows to each other.

“My sister has the right to choose herself. I shall pass on your warning. As for your second son, I promise I’ll do my best.” He assures her and she releases a relieved sigh as he holds up his arm for her to take, as he leads her back to her husband.

“She’s a lovely dance partner, Lord Hathaway. Thank you, and have a lovely evening.” 

* * *

“I received all the letters your brother gave me personally.” Babylon offers, a bold-faced lie, taking a sip from her glass again, eyes trailing over the people enjoying the ball. There is joy in the air, though more at being at a ball held by the royal family than any joy on the behalf of the prince whose engagement they’re celebrating.

“May I ask why you have not written back? I was most anxious for your response.” He asks, and he sounds like he was expecting a certain response, and she glances at him from the corner of her eyes, raising a brow.

“I was not aware I had any obligation to answer a series of letters you took upon yourself to send me, unprompted?” Tristan’s eyes widen and he flounders for a bit, not quite sure what to say to that. Babylon sees Beelzebub in the throngs of people, their dark clothing standing out against the rest, and she gives them a smile and a nod. She receives a nod back, before Beelzebub disappears. Babylon wonders if she should check if Beelzebub has time to talk a bit later.

“I, uh, I didn’t mean to assume-“ He cuts himself off, smiling charmingly again, apparently having realized what he has to do to salvage the situation. He truly is not used to women who do not fall at his feet, is he, Babylon scoffs silently in her mind.

“Perhaps I was too forward in my letters.”

“Mayhap. I am also quite busy being the governess to Lord Morningstar’s son. I have no time there, and I am rarely in London. I have no time for such frivolous things when I am visiting my brother either.” Again the man seems shocked and blurts out what any man like him would say, and Babylon is not surprised. She counted on it.

“How would you find a husband and have children if you cannot bring it in yourself to find the time, my lady?” Because that’s what it all comes down to, isn’t it? Babylon answers with the politest smile she can conjure up and turns towards him.

“Whoever said that it is my wish to be married and have children? I have never once even entertained the notion.” Again he seems confused and flustered, caught off-guard, not quite sure what to say or do at such a reply. This must be because of his upbringing.

“I, er, may I have this dance?” He tries, and again, Babylon smiles.

“I don’t like to dance. Enjoy your evening, Lord Hathaway.” She says, and disappears into the crowd, leaving a red-faced man behind her. 

Lady Hathaway sees her eldest son come towards her and her husband where they are standing in a vacant corner. From his expression she can easily conclude what happened. Babylon have rebuffed him, and that even without having received the warning Lady Hathaway had given Lord Crowley. She’s glad for the young woman’s sake, but at the same time she worries for herself and Bada. She hopes that tonight’s failure won’t fall back on them. Oh she can only pray that the fallout won’t be so bad.

“What happened?” Lord Hathaway demands.

“She said she received some of my letters, the ones Bada delivered himself. But she said she has no interest in getting married, and she rebuffed me when I asked for a dance!” Tristan snaps, obviously agitated.

“She can deny all she wants, but if courting her won’t work, all we have to do is get close to her brother. If he tells her to marry you, she has to. And once you’re married, it won’t be her choice anymore whether or not she has children.” Lord Hathaway assures his son in a hushed voice. Lady Hathaway hides her flinch, and is so happy to know that Lord Crowley will never force his sister to marry anyone she doesn’t want. She wishes her own family had been just as good to her, but that is all in the past. She is overall grateful to know that Babylon won’t go through the same horrors.

“She’s not behaving like a woman should, father.” Tristan hisses. “ _It’s annoying_!”

“Once she’s your wife you can start properly educating her on her place. For now, just be patient.” They discuss this as if it’s nothing, as if they’re not talking about removing all choice from another person, as if they’re not talking about forcing someone to do things against their will that will hurt them, and it sickens Lady Hathaway. Tristan is her son, but she had no say about his upbringing. She barely saw him before he was nearly a teen, but Bada, ‘the spare’, as her husband likes to call him, he she was allowed to raise herself. And she, no matter how horrible it may sound, loves him more than she is ever feeling capable of loving Tristan and her own husband.

“Ease your worries, Tristan. Everything will-“ Lord Hathaway trails off as he sees people crowd to the dance floor, pointing and whispering. Curious, he heads over and stops short at what he sees. Bada, his useless spare son, is dancing with Babylon Crowley. Bada is dancing and conversing with Babylon, succeeding where Tristan has failed. But Lord Hathaway doesn’t need his spare son to succeed, he needs Tristan to succeed!

* * *

“Oh good lord, Babylon is dancing!” Aziraphale gasps and Crowley’s head snaps around so hard she fears it might fall off his shoulders, eyes nearly boggling out of his head behind his shades. Indeed, his sister is dancing, with Bada Hathaway no less. His eyes scan the crowd and he catch sight of a seething Lord Hathaway. They will have to run interference later on, and he tells Aziraphale so, who nods.

“But first, husband, one more dance?” He accepts.

* * *

“Whatever my brother said to put such a scowl on your face, my lady, I apologize.” Babylon puts down her empty glass and turns to see Bada, bowing his head to her.

“If you’re going to apologize for every little thing your brother does or says that offends me, you will be stuck in that pose for the rest of your life, I’m afraid.” She waves at him and he straightens up. “He’s just very stuck on a certain way of life, a lifestyle I find myself unable and unwilling to conform to.”

“I apologize. He was raised with such beliefs, though that does not excuse his behaviour.” Babylon likes Bada. He’s respectful towards her, he listens to her and takes her opinion and feelings into consideration. He’s a good, clever and honest man. It’s such a shame he’s the son of Lord Hathaway, a man no doubt about to bite over more than he can chew.

“My lady, may I, if you’re comfortable, ask for a dance?” She blinks. She always refuses every request for a dance, because she knows what topics always arise from them. But Bada has no aspirations, so she grabs hold of the hand he offered, and accepts.

She’s well aware that people are whispering as they move onto the dance floor, but she does her best to ignore it as Bada leads her through a waltz. Babylon only ever dances with family members, therefore she is used to careless chatter or banter. There is none of that here, and so she finds her movements to be a bit stiff. She is finding herself in an unknown situation, and with unknown variables, she is not quite sure how to act. Her hesitance removes her grace from her moves.

“You’re a bit clumsy, aren’t you?” Bada remarks and she gapes at him.

“ _I beg your pardon?”_

“You’ve stepped on my foot twice now.” Bada teases and she feels her cheeks heat.

“I…” She pauses. “I’m not used to anyone outside my family, or close friends.” She admits, and he hums.

“I understand. Please relax, my lady, and I promise I’ll lead you through this dance without causing you any embarrassment.” And he does. His movements are fluid, his steps sure and his grip on her comforting. He is sure in his lead, but he isn’t forcing her to move any way he wants her to, he _leads_. It’s a gentle thing, and she feels like she’s floating on air as they dance, and she’s never enjoyed a dance so much. Laughter bubbles up in her chest, and she lets out a few giggles as she enjoys the rest of the song with Bada. Bada smiles widely as they do one final twirl and come to a stop.

“It was a pleasure, my lady.”

“The pleasure was all mine, my lord.” There’s laughter in her voice as she squeezes the hand holding hers before letting go to curtsy. “You were a wonderful partner.” She can’t remember a time where she enjoyed a dance with anyone but family, but now she has and she wonders if she should allow herself to unfold a little bit, accept a dance here and there. She does so love the activity, after all.

“If it were you, I’d accept being courted.”

* * *

Crowley and Aziraphale finish their dance with a flourish, and Aziraphale giggles happily. Oh they’re in the middle of a game, but while dancing she had forgotten all about it and just enjoyed herself. She’d forgotten about the Hathaway family, she’d forgotten all about Sandalphon colluding with her father. She had just been Aziraphale, at a ball with her husband, feeling like she did the first time she danced with Crowley, when they were getting to know each other.

It’s a magical feeling.

“I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself.” Crowley says, kissing the back of her hand reverently.

“Of course I am.” She assures him, glancing around. “Oh dear, Bada is heading for his family, and his father does _not_ look pleased.” Lord Hathaway appears to be about ready to throw a fit, actually, and Crowley sighs.

“Time for us to intervene then. Are we heading home early?” Crowley asks and Aziraphale nods as he steers them towards the family.

“Best to be home at a reasonable hour if we’re to entertain guests tomorrow. Also, I am feeling _positively energetic_ tonight.” Crowley coughs and she grins mischievously at him.

“Am I distracting you?”

“Always.” Crowley grins back. “Lord Hathaway.” They stop before the family.

“Forgive the late notice, but I need you to come by tomorrow, say, around noon?” He addresses Bada, who appears surprised by the sudden summoning.

“Oh, Lady Hathaway, do join me for tea tomorrow. I finally have the time.” Aziraphale beams.

“I don’t-“ Lord Hathaway tries to interrupt but Aziraphale ploughs on.

“Or I can come to your home, if you’d prefer? We did promise, didn’t we?” Aziraphale looks at Lady Hathaway as she says this, but it’s clear that she’s daring Lord Hathaway to deny her request. Even Crowley is looking at him with a raised brow. If the man wants to keep friendly relations with them, he can’t refuse, and he knows it. With a tight smile, he agrees.

* * *

Far from the group, Beelzebub is watching the interactions with narrowed eyes. They're standing by the doors, holding a glass in their hand as they think about everything they have witnessed this night. Someone is playing games. 

“I don’t trust this. Follow them.” Beelzebub says, seemingly to no one. Even so, someone unassuming answers them and disappears into the shadows.


	15. Chapter 15

Aziraphale is sitting in Crowley’s study the next day, waiting for their guests. Now, Aziraphale has invited Lady Hathaway over for tea, something she had not been able to do just yet despite having extended such an invitation the first time they met. Her husband, on the other hand…

“Did you actually have anything for him to do, today?” She asks her husband who shakes his head. But then again, the entire act of inviting them over here was to avoid any unpleasantness to happen to the two of them. Hathaway’s expression last night was proof enough that he was not pleased with the evening’s proceedings. He had not been very subtle about it.

“Well, for my part, I did invite Lady Hathaway for tea because I do actually want to get to know her better. She seems like a lovely lady.” Crowley regards his wife from his seat by his desk. She’s played along so well so far, she seemed to have enjoyed herself up to this point, but he’s wondering if perhaps it’s getting to be too much for her.

“Are you worried?” He asks and she turns her head to look at him. She purses her lips and looks down into her lap.

“Well, it’s not like I didn’t have my suspicions, I _did_ notice both this and that, but to hear what you told me last night, what you learned from her… Yes, yes I am worried. For Lady Hathaway and Bada, and Babylon. I do know that she’s not some naïve young woman, but considering Lady Hathaway’s warning to her, how the poor woman herself is treated… This isn’t just a game anymore. The man has aspirations for his son, none of us know how far he is willing to go, and it makes me a worried woman indeed.” She admits and Crowley can understand that.

“I’ll never treat you in such a way.” He says quietly and she turns towards him, alarmed.

“And I’ve never ever thought you would either, my darling!” He smiles. It boosts his confidence in himself to know that she trusts him so much. And he means it. He finds the mere notion of beating a woman, let alone his own wife, to be downright pathetic and sickening. And the thought that people who find this perfectly acceptable behaviour wants to get a hold of his sister to get a foot into his family…

Well, it makes him furious enough to breathe fire.

Babylon has already experienced more pain than she ever should have. He brought her into safety, and by no means is he going to let anyone dare even attempt at breaking her apart and reduce her into nothing. Fortunately, Bada and his mother have been very helpful with the titbits of information they have given both Crowley and Babylon. It doesn’t sit right with him, letting Bada and his mother to their fate, though it’s not really any of his business, either. There is a limit to his reach.

“Oh Anthony, isn’t there any way we can help the poor dears? You talked about having Bada become a Crowley, if Babylon takes the bait. What about his mother? She is trapped there.” This is distressing Aziraphale a great deal. Bada he can save, if his plan is successful, but his mother is trickier, because by law she belongs with her husband. If an opportunity comes along, he’ll try, but he can’t promise Aziraphale more than that.

Suddenly there is a knock on the door, and the butler enters.

“Lord and Lady Hathaway has arrived, my lord.” Aziraphale jumps to her feet, all distress wiped from her expression.

“Well then, time for me to be a good hostess.” Crowley shakes his head and tells the butler that Bada can be sent to his office. He doesn’t have to wait long before Bada knocks on his door and enters the room.

“You wanted to see me, Lord Crowley?” Ah, right. Crowley hadn’t come up with an excuse yet. He motions for Bada to take a seat and watches the young man. No flinch, wince or anything that can hint to the man suffering any pain or discomfort. At least the interference last night went well.

“How do you like working for me, Bada?” The young man appears alarmed at the question, as if the worst thing that could have happened to him has happened.

“I, sire, if I’ve done something to offend-“ The younger man stutters and Crowley interrupts him.

“No, no, I’m just asking.” Crowley assures him. It’s like Bada is walking on eggshells around him. It’s quite disconcerting, considering that Bada is a tall and broad-shouldered man, someone who’d be quite intimidating were it not for his very kind features.

“I’m just asking whether you like it or not. My associates whom you’ve met have all been very appreciative of your work ethics. I’ve got offers of handing your contract over, should you wish it.” Bada seems embarrassed, not at all used to hearing such praise about himself, but he clears his throat.

“How would you keep my family in check if you do that?” Crowley blinks before he guffaws, loudly.

“Good one.” He admits before he calms down. “Truthfully, Bada, I brought you into my employ because I thought you’d be a competent worker, and you’ve proven yourself to be just that.”

“Oh.”

“That you’d give me such crucial information of what your family is plotting was a bonus, one I am very thankful for. It makes it easier to protect my own.” There’s a silence, for a few moments before Bada shifts in his seat. He seems a bit hesitant to speak up again, but finds his courage.

“If I may, my lord. Tristan and father will never give up as long as your sister remain unmarried.” Crowley leans back in his chair and rests the pads of his fingers together. Bada is right, no matter how uncomfortable he appears in his seat for his remark. People like his father and Tristan don’t usually give up on such folly that they are attempting here. Unfortunately for them, Crowley never loses a game, and he’s not about to start now, not when the stakes are so high. Then he looks at Bada, that little idea he had earlier slowly forming more details in his head.

“What did Babylon say to you, last night?” The question throws Bada off-guard and he hesitates.

“Well, I, er… well…” He stutters but when Crowley just waits and makes no offers of retracting his question Bada has to give in.

“Your Lordship’s sister said that if it were me, she’d allow herself to be courted…” He trails off, this time absolutely sure that he has crossed a line. He is the second son of a lowborn noble family, not like the high standing families that are much more suited to marry someone of Babylon’s standing. Instead of accusing him of anything, Crowley sits up straight.

“I want you to know this, Bada. If you court my sister, end up marrying her even, under no circumstances will I allow her to live under the same roof as your father and brother. She will never become Lady Babylon Hathaway, do you understand?” The words are harsh, and to anyone else it would seem like Crowley is threatening Bada to stay away from his younger sibling, but Bada is clever, and knows that Crowley has nothing against himself, but his father and brother.

“You’ll have me forsake my name and take yours?”

“Yes.” Crowley says, no ‘and’s, if’s or buts’ about it. Bada understands what that means. Lord Crowley is extending aid his way, but can Bada accept? What’ll happen to his mother if he does this? If Bada does this, if he accepts, it’ll be interfering with his father’s plans, something he had been warned not to do. As if understanding what thoughts pass through Bada’s mind, Crowley speaks up again.

“Your family need not know that you’re courting her. All they’ll know is that I chose you for her. Court in secret, and I’ll play along with your father and brother.”

“And if it actually comes to it? If she accepts being courted, if she agrees to marriage in the end, what am I to do? I have no funds to offer her a ring befitting her.”

“I have a family heirloom.” Crowley assures him. “It’s in need for a small trip to the gold smith, but if it comes to it, I’ll have it fixed right up, and have you propose to her with it. It’s meant to be hers the moment she’s engaged. It belonged to my grandmother.”

“But what if they won’t accept it being me and not Tristan?” Crowley grins something sharp.

“I’ll threaten your father with ruin. Trust me, I can achieve that between getting up in the morning and having breakfast. It is no hardship on my part.” Bada believes him. Crowley may appear charming and kind, but beneath that exterior is a cunning man who will stop at nothing to get what he wants. There is one flaw to the man’s plan though.

“For any of this to work, my lord, your sister needs to agree.” Crowley’s smile stretches wider.

“You’re catching on, Bada.”

* * *

Lady Hathaway is having quite the pleasant day. She’s been having tea with Lady Crowley and she’s been allowed to hold the young heir to the Crowley house. Cade is absolutely adorable, a precious little thing. She remembers when Bada was so young, when he would grab onto the skirts of her dress as they walked together, thumb stuck stubbornly in his mouth. She can understand that feeling when Aziraphale said that her son was her pride and joy. She had felt like that too, once. Or rather, she still feels it, whenever she sees Bada. Lady Hathaway expected to be asked about her situation, but Aziraphale keeps it all light and easy. Lady Hathaway is quite glad for that, but she is also worried.

“Anthony will protect Babylon.” Aziraphale says, after watching Lady Hathaway’s brows furrow as she falls deep into thought without even knowing.

“If Bada accepts, we’ll help him too. I’m not able to promise the same thing to you, with absolute certainty.” The blonde appears to feel wretched at the thought and Lady Hathaway smiles as she puts down her tea-cup and saucer.

“I’ve lived like this for twenty-seven years, madam. I have, in a way, grown quite used to it.”

“But you shouldn’t have had to.” Aziraphale says quietly and Lady Hathaway regards her host.

“You’re quite kind, madam.”

“I’m not kind, I just know what’s right and what’s wrong.” Aziraphale counters.

“If you can help my son, I’ll be happy. If you can do that much, when I have never done anything to warrant such a gift, I’ll be forever grateful.” Aziraphale frowns, but lets it go as Crowley and Bada suddenly enter the sitting room.

“Aziraphale, Lady Hathaway, we are heading to Lucifer’s city estate. Do you perhaps wish to come with?” Crowley asks and Aziraphale claps her hands together, wiggling happily in her seat.

“Oh, Lady Hathaway, do come along. Lord Lucifer is a most appreciative host, and his son is quite the upstanding citizen already. Let me just have Cade dressed appropriately.” Lady Hathaway didn’t much get to say anything before she’s bustled into a carriage to sit beside her son. Lucifer Morningstar’s city estate is as marvellous as Crowley’s and Lady Hathaway finds herself worrying she’ll get lost, until Bada holds out an arm for her to take hold of. She can always count on her son.

“Lucifer.” Crowley greets as they are led inside the sitting room by a servant.

“Anthony. You’re just in time for my afternoon tea.” Lucifer gestures to the empty seats.

“Splendid. Where’s Babylon?”

“Attempting to help my son’s dance master teach him the waltz.” Lucifer chuckles.

“He’s not enjoying it?” Aziraphale asks, glancing down at her own son nestled on her hip.

“He’d rather poke his hand into the fire, I believe were his exact words.”

“I’d be lying if I said I, too, didn’t think of it like that when I was a child.” Crowley shakes his head.

“So, why this impromptu visit, cousin?” Lucifer asks and Crowley glances at Aziraphale who grabs Lady Hathaway with her free hand and begins leading her out.

“Lord Lucifer has a rather excellent collection of art here. Come, let me show you.” And with that she leads the lady out of the room. Lucifer waits until he no longer hears the clicking of their heels before speaking.

“If she knows nothing , the lady can’t be held complicit, is that it?”

“Something along those lines, yes.” Crowley says, and Bada wonders how much Crowley has already discussed with his cousin about this plan that he had told the younger man of only a short while before, as the redhead turns towards him.

“Let’s go. It’s your turn.” Suddenly Bada feels his hands turn clammy. He has managed to create a respectful friendship with Babylon. What if she takes offense to this? But Lord Crowley is counting on him, and really, Bada finds that Babylon is someone he won’t mind marrying. A clever, honest and good woman, who knows her worth and takes pride in it. He enjoys her company, but even after what she said the other night, he worries it was just in the heat of the moment. But Lord Crowley isn’t tricking him, is he? And it’s not as if Bada is going to demand she marry him, he’s going to ask if she’d allow him to court her. If she says no, she says no, and he’ll accept it, as there is nothing else he can do. If she says no, he can stay behind and protect his mother the best he can, as he always has. If Babylon says no, there will be no backlash for interfering with his father’s plan.

Bada, while walking with Crowley, has managed to convince himself that Babylon will reject him, and that it is okay. When they enter the room, he sees Babylon stand by the wall, barely hiding her irritation with the boy’s reluctance to listen to his dance instructor. Warlock is being difficult, asking why he has to learn how to dance.

“Because once you’re old enough, you will attend events in which you will have to dance with young women, either out of politeness, because that is expected of you, or because you will be in the process of courting them.” Babylon says, with the sort of tone that reveals she might have explained this several times already.

“We’ve talked about this before, Warlock.”

“But it’s boring!”

“Good lord.” Babylon mutters to herself.

“How are you going to court and marry a woman as gorgeous as my wife if you can’t dance, boy?” Crowley announces their presence, and Babylon turns alongside Warlock and the instructor.

“It looks stupid!” Warlock stomps his foot and Babylon exhales loudly.

“I need a partner, either of you will do.” She says, rubbing the bridge of her nose as she steps onto the floor. Bada offers his hand, might as well, considering he will be asking her if he can court her soon enough. Might as well start up the entire thing well, right? She seemed to like the dance they had the evening before. She accepts without a word and lets him position them as she shoots Warlock a look.

“Watch.” She tells the boy sternly, before they begin. There’s no music, it’s not at all how it was the night before, but it’s a pleasant experience none-the-less. Bada is more relaxed because no one from his family is watching, and for Babylon, this is simply her and a partner demonstrating for Warlock how one does the waltz properly. That she enjoys the demonstration with her partner is purely coincidental, of course. Once they’re done, Warlock seems a little bit less reluctant, and Babylon heads over to him, lifting the boy’s chin to have him look at her.

“I understand very well that there are some aspects of your teachings you don’t enjoy as much as the rest, but your view on dancing just might change as you grow older. It’s not a guarantee, but there is a possibility. And from what I’ve heard, neither my brother nor your father enjoyed dancing much when they were your age either, but they do now.” Warlock seems annoyed, like any child his age being told what to do will be, but he agrees to practice, if somewhat petulantly. If only because he thought Bada looked rather good doing it, and Warlock has started to look up to the man.

“May I borrow you, for a moment, my lady?” Bada asks when Warlock goes back to his instructor. Babylon glances at him before nodding.

“Of course. Through here.” She leads him through a door and they find themselves in a smaller, study like room. She takes a seat on the settee, and gestures for Bada to do the same. When he sits down, he goes right into it, no beating around the bush. He asks for her permission to court her, explains that he will not have her take the name Hathaway should she agree on it and lead all the way to marriage. He expects her to turn him down. A gentle refusal befitting her mood, but a refusal none-the-less.

“I accept.” He hears the words, sees her speak them, but it doesn’t quite register before a moment passes. She is quite patient as she waits for his reaction.

“Pardon?” She does very little to hide her amusement.

“I accept.”

“I… did not expect that.” He admits, and she hides a chuckle behind her hand.

“Considering you came here alongside my brother, I suspect he had come up with some sort of plan to ensure both my safety and yours.”

“Er, yes.”

“The fact that you’re asking, I do hope that means you sincerely have an interest?” There’s a quality to her voice that he’s never heard before, a sliver of vulnerability, he can see it in her eyes too ,even if she tries to hide it. He wonders what has made her so cautious, afraid to let down her guard around people.

“Of course. I wouldn’t have asked if my reasons were half-hearted.” He says, quick to assure her. “I didn’t ask you just to thwart my father and brother’s scheme, my lady. I enjoy your company, our talks, I find you witty and clever.” He says with the utmost sincerity, and she flashes a grin, as if she’s trying to gather herself properly again.

“What about my looks?” It’s said in such an off-handed manner, as if she’s simply trying to brush him off. Because that’s usually what men go for, right? Pretty ladies as accessories on their arms during events and away otherwise.

“You’re gorgeous.” The way her face blooms pink is adorable, makes her appear younger, or more as she should, more like her own age. Like when he called her clumsy during their dance. She has been caught off-guard again. Bada is realizing he finds it a bit amusing.

“Alright.” She says quietly.

“Do you want me to call in Lord Crowley, so he can explain the plan?” She clears her throat and nods. Bada gets up, opens the door and Crowley enters, looking expectant.

“Well?”

“I have accepted that he can court me. I have agreed on nothing else.” She says, eyes narrowing and Crowley nods.

“One thing at a time.” And thus he begins his explanation.

* * *

Lady Hathaway is quite amazed at the great room she had been showed around in. Lucifer Morningstar did indeed have a rather extensive collection of art. But the halls they’re walking as they head back to the others are filled with portraits, portraits of the Morningstar lineage. It’s a bit imposing, really, to see the faces of so many high-standing nobles, but when Aziraphale stops before a portrait of a lovely, almost ethereal-looking lady, Lady Hathaway cannot help but be a bit enthralled.

“This is Lilith Morningstar, Lord Lucifer’s wife, and Warlock’s mother.” The blonde tells her.

“Where is the Lady Morningstar?”

“She passed when Warlock was very young. From what I understand, her health was very frail.” They move on and Lady Hathaway begins to _truly_ understand the difference between the noble standing of her current family, and families like the Morningstar’s and Crowley’s. Morningstar’s city-estate, which is supposedly only used in the few instances they visit London, is still twice the size of the Hathaway main estate, if not more. And her husband wants this. She finds some solace in knowing that he’ll never achieve his goal, since the world doesn’t work the way he thinks it does. Lord Crowley don’t see women the same way he does, they’re not bargaining tools for him. That alone will make all the difference. Her husband lost even before he began properly scheming.

“Lady Crowley, I know you’re walking me around to keep me occupied as the men do their scheming.” Aziraphale smiles innocently, and Lady Hathaway shakes her head. It’s very clever and kind to keep her out of it. A failsafe, to make sure the plan won’t be revealed. If there is a plan.

“Just answer me this: will my son be safe? Can you bring him into a life where he won’t have to take this pain?” The lady’s voice nearly cracks, but she keeps going strong.

“It will.” Aziraphale assures her. “I will.” 

Months pass by, and Tristan tries again and again to see Babylon, though that proves to backfire quite spectacularly when he shows up unannounced at Lucifer’s residence. When the young man shows up, and is greeted by the butler, Tristan immediately asks the man to bring him to Lady Crowley. He had most likely expected to be welcomed inside without question, but as the butler has not been notified by either his lord or the governess he serves, he refuses. He knows his lord, he knows that the man does not like people to just come and go to his home whenever they feel so inclined (unless they were family), so he stands his ground even when Tristan rather quickly becomes flustered and causes a ruckus.

He shouts obscenities, curses, yells about how a simple, lowborn servant dare reject him upon his visit.

“When I speak with Lord Morningstar, I will tell him how bad you are at your one, simple job!” Unfortunately for Tristan, Lucifer had come upon them quite early on when the other lord had lost his cool, and silently Lucifer commends his butler for his endless patience and professionalism. That being noted, he will not tolerate some lowborn noble coming into his London estate and abuse his staff. So he enters into their line of sight, and the butler bows to his lord. Upon seeing Lucifer as well, Tristan straightens himself and smiles, prepared to be given what he wants. It is with great confusion that he witnesses the cold expression on Lucifer’s face.

“I do not appreciate people showing up unannounced and abusing my staff, Mr. Hathaway.” Lucifer says, pinning the insult of not using Tristan’s title properly home. “Do not do so again. Leave, before I have the guards remove you.” And Tristan, having been properly humiliated and chastised does _not_ show up unannounced at the Morningstar estate again. Instead, he tries to catch Babylon whenever she leaves the building, but that does not work out well either. She’s either always with Warlock, or she goes places that Tristan cannot enter without an invitation. Therefore, during the month in which Babylon and the Morningstar’s stay in London, Tristan only ever got to speak to Babylon at the ball.

Bada avoids his brother the best he can after that month, and is very thankful that Crowley’s employment lets him leave London often. Tristan is absolutely livid and looks about ready to snap at the smallest thing. Bada is often gone for weeks at a time, and his family think nothing of it, for them it’s easier to plot when he’s out of the house. If they knew what most of the time outside of London is being spent on, they’d be even more furious. Because most of the time is spent in Oxford, at the home of the Morningstar family.

Crowley gets updates from Babylon that he reads together with Aziraphale. Babylon enjoys being courted, she will admit to that much. She also admits that it’s quite nice to have someone around who is honestly interested in her for her, and not just to get close to her brother.

“I think I’ll soon have to give up my sister’s hand in marriage.” Crowley sounds astounded, despite the fact that all of this is his idea, his own scheme, to begin with.

“I remember what it was like, being courted by a good man.” Aziraphale sighs dreamily, and Crowley glances up from the letter, smirking at her.

“Must have been great fun.”

“Absolutely. It was quite refreshing having a proper gentleman trying to gain my affections.”

“Trying?” Crowley raises a brow, and she bats her eyes innocently.

“Oh, he tried so very heard.” She titters.

“I would have thought he succeeded.”

“He did.” She smiles warmly at him. There truly is a difference between being courted by men who simply wants a wife, and someone who wants her. Someone who wants to make her smile, make her happy, who _wants_ to spend time with her, who accepts her. Aziraphale has found something very few in her situation can ever hope to find;

A near on fairy tale ending, true love.

“I’m glad we’re on the same page.”

“I do so miss those times, though.”

“We have a lot of fun, didn’t we?” Crowley agrees.

“I know we can’t turn back time, but yes, I’d have loved to experience it again, with you. They’re amongst my fondest memories.” Because it’s one of the first times she had been treated like a person. Crowley must connect the dots, because he grabs her hand and presses a kiss onto the back of it.

“And we’ll make many more.” He promises her, making her heart swell in her chest. “And should you ever want to, I’ll come up with something that will sweep you off of your feet.” He tells her and she rolls her eyes.

“Be careful, husband. I might just spring a surprise on you, if you don’t watch out.”

“Your surprises are always sinfully delicious. You remember the first time? I certainly haven’t forgotten.” He grins and she flushes a bright red.

“Foul fiend…”

* * *

Lucifer agreed to let Bada come by so that he could court Babylon in secret. It would be no hardship on his part to let the man through his doors, as he quite liked him. He leaves them well enough alone when Bada is here, only interacting whenever they chose to do so, but this one day, Lucifer sees them from the window of his office. They’re walking in the garden. The leaves have turned yellow and red, they’ve started to fall to the ground, the air is colder now than it was only a few short weeks ago. It appears as if Babylon enjoys herself, the attention. Lucifer remembers when he had courted Lilith. It had been a long affair, mostly because his parents had been very much against it and tried to set him up with ladies _they_ believed suited him.

Someone whose body wasn’t so frail. So his courting of Lilith had been both a long affair, and a secret one. He keeps the memories close to his heart. They’re most precious to him, after all. All he has left of her is Warlock, and he adores his son. He is happy for Babylon, who has always held herself to a certain standard, who’s always done her best to be a prime governess to Warlock and someone Lucifer could lean on and trust, Babylon who had to grow up far too son, who made herself into an impregnable fortress for the sake of her loved ones… Lucifer realizes he is now watching those walls crumble.

He hopes it ends well for her. Lucifer is not fond of Bada’s family. He didn’t speak much with the head of the house, but the way Tristan had acted when he had showed up unannounced, the sheer amount of entitlement and arrogance emitting form the man was enough for Lucifer to want to crush the man beneath his heel. Especially when he was told by Babylon that the man had followed her all over London while they were there, especially when he learned from Crowley the abuse the head of the house administered upon his own wife. The master of the Morningstar estate doesn’t doubt that Tristan will be much the same towards any poor soul that marries him.

Now, Lucifer may only be Babylon’s cousin, but she’s precious family to him none-the-less. She was a god-send when Lilith became bedridden, when Warlock was but a babe, when Lilith passed and Lucifer needed someone to steady him and raise Warlock, someone who knew the pain, someone who honestly wanted to be of help without constantly reminding him of his duties all the time.

Babylon is a good woman, and while Lucifer knows that Crowley will never allow anyone with bad intentions anywhere near her, Lucifer decides to make doubly sure that the Hathaway’s won’t get away with their scheming.

So he writes a letter to Beelzebub Prince.


	16. Chapter 16

Beelzebub frowns as they read the letter they’ve been sent by Lucifer Morningstar. It’s not like it’s the first time they’ve read something like this, the contents aren’t that surprising, but still… It rubs them the wrong way. Perhaps it is because the contents are directly related to someone Beelzebub knows personally, someone Beelzebub considers close. There aren’t many who has that privilege. They make a decision.

“Aquila!” The door to their study opens and a young woman with a scarred face enters. There’s a story behind that scar. Beelzebub has utterly destroyed the person who caused the injury, as well as her husband’s family name and finances.

“Yes, Your Grace?”

“The house I ordered watched after that ridiculous ball, tell me about it.” Beelzebub demands, rolling their pen between their fingers. 

“Yes, I remember. Nothing happened that night, with the exception of a lot of yelling and threats.” Aquila repeats her last report, albeit in a much more abridged manner, but waits for her master to elaborate on why they mentioned that particular house again. Beelzebub remembers the threats mentioned and connects it to the letter Lucifer sent. Their frown morphs into a scowl.

“Keep watch over it, indefinitely.” Aquila is very good at what she does, she’s competent and trustworthy. She’s very loyal, as long as her master is someone worth being loyal to, and Beelzebub has never been anything but. Without question she nods and leaves the room. Beelzebub leans back in their seat, fingers linking together.

“Someone’s reaching, and I hate when they do that.”

* * *

Lord Hathaway is suspicious. Something is not right. Too many _street-rats_ are running around the streets close to their city house, and he’s quite sure that a rival family is out to thwart Tristan’s chances of marrying Babylon Crowley, by making it seem like they do not have the means to run them off. He will not stand for it. It’s hard enough considering the woman doesn’t even live in London, but in Oxford. Even more so considering that Tristan for some reason managed to offend Lucifer Morningstar, whose son Babylon is the governess to, whose house Babylon lives in.

No wonder the woman isn’t behaving appropriately for her stature, she’s been given too much freedom, it’s near on ludicrous. No, Tristan will marry the girl, Lord Hathaway will make sure of that, and then the re-education will begin. Women need to know their place; they cannot be allowed to run around doing whatever they want. That is not their purpose in life. It’s just how it has to be, the man thinks as he writes down what must be done in his journal. But at the very least Bada isn’t here to muck anything up, Lord Crowley has done Lord Hathaway a great service here, and he is thankful for that.

Now, the last meeting with the man had confused Lord Hathaway a bit. He had tried to hint to him, make Tristan seem like a good candidate for his sister’s hand in marriage, but the other man had said that his sister had not voiced any desire to marry, so that was a subject best left alone. Lord Hathaway knows with absolute certainty that that if he had had any sisters or daughters, he would have married them off for the sake of bettering the family name. The ones so close to the top of nobility must be too soft. Soft people won’t last long, which makes it even more vital that Tristan marries Babylon. There is more to gain here than Lord Hathaway initially thought. Not just reputation and a rise of the Hathaway name, there might proper power and a connection to Sire Prince, whom he has yet to meet.

Tristan just need to get one chance to properly talk to the woman. Just one, and Lord Hathaway is sure she will fold. Why wouldn’t she? His son is handsome and charismatic, and he always gets what he wants. He is, by far, a better candidate than anyone else.

Tristan sends a new letter with Bada the next time he leaves for Oxford, A few days before Bada returns, Lord Hathaway visits Lord Crowley again. He sees the wife with their son in the sitting room, reading poetry out loud to their son. She’s a pretty, young thing, he thinks. Maybe he can find some use for her, once this is all over. His own wife is useless now, after all, he thinks surly as he enters the study. There he discusses politics with Lord Crowley for a while before broaching the subject.

“My son, Tristan, has sent your sister a letter in which he voices his desire to court her, though all letters sent to her previously has gone unanswered. It might sound impudent, but can I ask you have her answer?” The air changes. Lord Hathaway is surprised when Crowley’s content appearance turns cold. He has never seen the lord anything but polite and in a good mood before, so to suddenly see his brows crease together and the downturn of his mouth is as bit disconcerting.

“You dare go around me? As I am her brother and legal guardian, you are obligated to come and gain my permission first.” Crowley says with a calm voice, but one can hear the displeasure, the simmering of growing fury, in the man’s voice and Lord Hathaway realizes he has made a mistake, and that he need to backtrack quickly if he wishes to stay and press his luck any further, but the sight of Lord Crowley sitting so rigid in his chair, displeasure so very clear, makes words escape the minor noble.

“I, er, I told you last time, my son, he is-“ Lord Hathaway stutters but Crowley cuts him off.

“The last time you brought up my sister and marriage, I believed you’d listen when I said not to pursue something that was out of the question at this time. I believed you had enough honour in you to accept that this is how the situation right now.”

“My lord, I-“

“You’ve overstayed your welcome, Lord Hathaway. I suggest you leave, before I take further offense with you.” The one clever thing Lord Hathaway does that day is leaving when told to do so. He realizes that he has erred for his plan. Now he has to do damage control. Bada returns a few days later and Tristan asks if Babylon has sent a reply for his letter back with his brother. Tristan is expectant, though Bada finds it utterly stupid that he is, considering that Babylon has never once answered any one of his letters, and had made no secret that she is not interested in replying, at any point in time.

“She gave me nothing, but I do know she’ll come back to London in a few weeks’ time, if that knowledge helps you any?” And for once, Bada has proven himself useful. They can work with that. So Lord Hathaway and Tristan tries to come up with ways that can repair the offense Crowley took with Lord Hathaway. Meanwhile, Bada does his work for Crowley as always, and no one in the family questions it, until one afternoon, Tristan, while out on a stroll, sees his brother enter a jewellery shop. He moves to see through the windows into the shop, how Bada talks with the gold smith, hands him something, before turning around to leave. Tristan makes sure he cannot be noticed, and watches as Bada pulls out a notebook from his coat and mutter something to himself before he leaves.

Tristan watches him turn a corner and disappear and narrows his eyes. His younger brother is planning something, and it’s a direct transgression against the plan. Tristan doesn’t like it when someone goes against a plan of his father’s that will leave him with what he wants. So he heads back home, finds his father, and explains what he saw. To Tristan’s great surprise, Lord Hathaway keeps calm.

“A jewellery shop and a gold smith… Once he returns with the evidence, we’ll have him tell us what’s going on.” Tristan agrees. It’s his father’s plan, from which Tristan will reap the benefits. All Tristan has to do, is do as he’s told. Bada notices no changes in his family’s actions, and therefore no alarm bells ring in his mind. He just does as he normally would, and Babylon returns to London, without Lucifer and Warlock this time, but she is immediately summoned to Beelzebub’s estate, so Tristan when Tristan shows up unannounced at the Crowley estate, all dressed up to impress and a humongous bouquet of flowers in his hand, he is sent off home again immediately without any results. Crowley doesn’t reject the notion that he very much enjoyed telling the man off.

“What the hell is your brother plotting?” Beelzebub demand the moment she enters their study. Babylon stops for a moment, before shaking her head and stepping forward again.

“Hello to you too, Sire.” Babylon greets as she walks up to the lone chair in front of Beelzebub’s desk and takes a seat, not at all perturbed by Beelzebub’s sour mood. It is something of a normal occurrence. Babylon would have been more terrified if Beelzebub had been smiling at her when she walked through the doors.

“Answer the question.” Beelzebub themselves isn’t in the mood for games today, it seems, so Babylon settles for telling the truth.

“He is keeping it a secret that I am being courted.”

“Ha ha, very funny, girl.” Beelzebub rolls their eyes, only to pause when Babylon sits perfectly calm in her seat, making no move to tell them that she is indeed joking. Beelzebub sits a bit straighter in their chair.

“You’re serious.” Babylon nods. “Why?”

“The head of the Hathaway family wants me to marry his oldest son, Tristan. I have no intention of marrying anyone as vile as that man, but they are like cockroaches. As long as I remain unmarried, they will not give up, so I am being courted in secret, to see if I can find a proper partner.”

“Why in secret, though? Wouldn’t it be better if they knew? Wouldn’t it make them back off if they knew you were already being courted by someone?” Babylon very much doubt they’d get the message even then, even if it wasn’t Bada.

“I’m being courted by the second son.”

“…. This makes no sense.” Beelzebub feels a headache starting to throb its way to the front of their head. 

“You’ll have to ask my brother for the details.” Babylon shrugs, and Beelzebub’s eyes narrow.

“Don’t play with me, Babylon. Why would Crowley have you being courted by the second son if he can’t stand the family head? I know better than anyone how much he adores you. What’s the point here?” Babylon regards them for a moment, thinking.

“Lucifer told you.”

“He seemed worried in a letter he sent me. So I’ve kept watch over those lowborn. I don’t like what’s being reported to me either. _Why_ does your brother think that this is a good idea?”

“Because the second son is a good man, and Anthony dislikes Lord Hathaway greatly.”

“I don’t care how good of a man he may be, I never expected Crowley to use you as a pawn.” Babylon bristles, finally Beelzebub has gotten a reaction out of her. Her brother has never used her as a pawn, and he’s not about to start now, nor will she ever let herself be used. Her brother fought, out-schemed his father to give Babylon the life she deserved, worked to make himself worthy of her trust and she trusts him more than anyone else.

“The courting was _my_ suggestion, and I’m not giving up _my_ family name, Bada is giving up _his._ I am sick and tired of Lord Hathaway and his son, I, too, want to take away the prize they so want. I want them to leave me alone, and what better way than to take away the son they think of as useless, and show that _he_ was looked upon as worthy of me, and ruin their little plan to elevate their status?” Her voice has raised during her little speech, but Beelzebub is not impressed.

“Are you done?” Beelzebub asks calmly, and Babylon falls back in her seat with a huff.

“While I appreciate your concern, Sire, instead of jumping to conclusions, why don’t you ask Anthony yourself? Are you truly that worried about me?”

“Don’t give me that.” Beelzebub rolls their eyes.” Crowley used me to make you a legitimate Crowley family member. I have stakes in this as well.”

“What stakes do you have in this? You helped make me a true daughter of the Crowley family, what else do you have?”

“Emotional stakes.” Babylon blinks, and raises a brow.

“This is important information that I must absolutely not, under any circumstance, tell anyone else, is that not so?”

“Damn right.” Babylon smiles. If her brother knew, Beelzebub would never be able to live it down.

“Thank you, Beelzebub. But truly, I am safe. And I am not opposed to what’s happening now, I am not opposed to my partner. It’s all great fun, really. And Bada is nothing like his father and brother.”

“How do you know that for certain?” Babylon’s smile turns smug.

“The servants know everything, Sire.” And that is something Beelzebub can’t dispute. Servants truly do know everything. It is, even to them, slightly terrifying.

“I’ll tell you this, one of the two reasons my brother wants to thwart them.” Babylon says. “The first time the oldest visited, without invitation, a servant overheard him say that things would change once he was head of the Crowley family.” And Beelzebub understands. It’s a threat against not only Crowley’s life, but also his wife and son. The Hathaway’s might not only be planning on gaining standing in London, they may be planning murder as well.

“Pretty ambitious for some lowborn from nowhere.” Beelzebub mutters and silently decides to keep monitoring them. Just as an extra precaution. Should they show their hand, it’s better to have more witnesses. “So, do you think the boy will find you a suitable ring?” Babylon rolls her eyes.

“Oh, so now you’re interested in the courting itself.” She sasses.

* * *

Back at the Crowley estate, Crowley is going through Bada’s reports alongside with the man. Nothing unforeseen has happened, business is going smoothly, his business partners are doing well with no complains, and he comes to the conclusion that hiring Bada truly had been a stroke of genius. It has taken a great workload and lots of stress off of his shoulders. He intends on keeping the man in his employ even if Babylon rejects the proposal when the time comes. If that were to happen, Crowley needs to work out an option on how to be rid of the other two’s obsessive behaviour towards her.

“How goes the courting?” He asks nonchalantly.

“The Lady must have told you, surely? Considering you sent me off with a job for the gold smith.” Bada replies and Crowley smirks.

“She did. I received notice that the job is finished and the ring is ready to be picked up, as well. Do you mind bringing it when you come in tomorrow?” Bada blinks, putting down the papers in his hand.

“You want me to… tomorrow?” He seems rather worried, and Crowley ponders about pulling his leg for a moment before brushing the thought away.

“You chose when you want to yourself. I just thought it would be safer to keep it here. It _is_ a family heirloom after all. No offense to you, of course.” Bada nods.

“Of course. I’ll bring it in the morning, tomorrow, sir.” Bada assures him and they continue their work. He leaves before dinner, so that he might catch the shop before they close for the day. He just manages to catch the store owner before he locks the door, and leaves with the restored ring. Bada finds himself agreeing with Crowley. Not only for the ring’s sake, he thinks as he looks it over, it’ll be safer for Bada too if the ring stays at the Crowley estate.

The next day, around afternoon, Crowley is tapping his pen against his desk. Today did not start off well, with Beelzebub marching into his home, with their guards, some left outside the estate, some waiting by his study door, demanding to know the details of his plan. And now he’s sitting here with his wife, Babylon and Beelzebub in his office, having explained it all yet again. And Bada is late!

“Where’s the man you might let marry Babylon?” Beelzebub demands.

“I don’t know. He should have been here by now.” Crowley snaps, just as there’s a knock on the door. All four of them look at it, as they hear the butlers voice on the other side.

“My lord, Lord Hath-“ The butler manages to say before the door swings open, revealed the outraged man, alongside Lord Hathaway and Tristan, both whom are smiling widely. Crowley is not in the mood to deal with these two today. He has half a mind to bodily throw them out himself.

“Lord Crowley.” Tristan greets. “May I give your sister a present, one worthy of her?” Crowley very much wants to tell them to sod off, but Tristan is already moving towards the settee where Babylon and Aziraphale are sitting. Babylon does not appear amused, as the man kneels with a flourish, holding out a small box. It’s like he only asked Crowley out of fake courtesy, only to go through with it before the man can even answer.

“My Lady, please, with this token, accept my proposal.” He says with grandeur as he opens the box. Babylon thinks it’s a mighty jump to go straight to a proposal without ever having gained the right to court her, and is about to tell him that, truly, it is very rude to do so, but her expression turns cold as Crowley stands up from behind the desk and marches forward.

“Pray tell, Lord Hathaway.” She begins with a steely tone. “How is it that you’re proposing to me with my own grandmother’s Fire Opal?” There is a hushed silence in the room as Tristan’s smile fades off of his face, as Lord Hathaway’s prideful expression turns from confused to downright horror when Crowley darts forward, snatches the jewellery box out of Tristan’s hands, and snarls once he sees the contents.

_“You bloody thief!_ You _dare_ to steal from me?” He bellows and Tristan cowers back, both frightened and confused as Beelzebub strides forward and sees the contents, frowning.

“That is indeed Priscilla Crowley’s Fire Opal. Guards!” The guards rush into the room, seizing Lord Hathaway and Tristan, who seem shell-shocked, completely confused.

“Wait? S-stolen goods?” Lord Hathaway begins. “Then-then the shame lies with my second son! He brought the ring home last night, he stole, if I knew, my lord, if I knew-“ He tries to shift the blame on Bada, but in the blink of an eye Crowley is in Lord Hathaway’s face, snarling.

“Your second son is the one I sent to pick it up. Where is he? What have you done?” Lord Hathaway seem unable to find his voice, but a young woman appears in the doorway. Aquila has a report for her master.

“Your Grace.” She addresses Beelzebub who waves her in. She whispers something to her master, whose frown deepens.

“Lock these two up. The rest of you, follow me to their home. Someone in the house is calling for help.”

“What? That’s impossible, I locked-“ Lord Hathaway begins, only to cut himself off. When it’s clear that he has nothing more to say on the matter, the guards drag them out.

“Bada wouldn’t have just handed the ring over to them unless it was part of your plan.” Babylon says, her brows creasing in worry as she looks to her brother, who frowns as well.

“It wasn’t part of my plan, no.” He says. Something is wrong. Beelzebub leaves the three of them in the study, their guards following them. The Crowley’s will have to wait until everything has calmed down, and the situation is under control.

* * *

Two days later, Babylon stands facing the door leading to the room which is currently hosting Bada in her brother’s home. She’s here to speak to his mother, she hasn’t since the two had been brought here after Beelzebub’s raid on the Hathaway house, and now she has finally found the courage to do so, or so she had thought. Standing here now, with just this one barrier between them, her arms feel like lead, she can’t muster the strength to knock. She stands there for several minutes before she finally manages a shaky knock.

“Come in.” Lady Hathaway’s voice calls out, and Babylon opens the door, entering slowly. There are two things she notices as she sees them both; Lady Hathaway is unkept, dark circles around her eyes, her hair a mess on her head, her dress dirty. Bada lays on the bed on his chest, appearing so frail, his back covered in bandages.

“Lady Crowley.” Lady Hathaway makes to stand from her chair, but Babylon raises her hand to stop her.

“There’s no need. How is he?” She asks quietly. “How are you holding up?”

“Oh, it’s just a bruise.” Lady Hathaway lays a palm on her swollen cheek. “Bada has woken up once, long enough for a sip of water before he fell asleep again.” Lady Hathaway explains. Babylon stares at Bada. He’s been whipped. He was whipped for hours the day he came home with the Crowley heirloom, and then they had left him abandoned in the cellar, letting him bleed without any medical aid. They’re going to leave nasty scars. Babylon knows, because she has them too. She remembers fire across, the sensation of blood wetting her back-

“Lady Crowley?”

“I’m sorry!” She gasps out. “I’m so sorry, this wasn’t, we didn’t want this to happen, they weren’t supposed to know about the ring, they weren’t supposed to know before my brother declared it, I’m so sorry!” She nearly folds into herself, the only thing keeping her standing is the thought that she has no right to crumble before these two. She has no right to crumble to bits in guilt in front of a woman who is so worried for her terribly hurt son. Especially not when this happened because Babylon had blurted out that she’d like it if it was Bada- She stops that train of thought, because she had been honest when she told him.

“Oh my dear.” And suddenly Lady Hathaway is there, embracing Babylon. “It’s not your fault. Please don’t cry.” And Babylon is both utterly ashamed and relieved that Lady Hathaway is such a gentle and kind person, when Babylon is the last person in the world to deserve it.

It’s late into the evening when Bada fully wakes. Lady Hathaway has fallen asleep in her chair and Babylon had not the heart to wake her and have her find her bed, so instead she had found herself a book and watched over the both of them. At the sound of the man groaning and shifting, she looks up and puts her book down. In an instant she has moved to his side, watching him squint as he tries to orient himself.

“Where?” He rasps.

“At my brother’s estate. Do you need anything?” Babylon asks quietly.

“Water.” He says and she reaches for the cup, gently helping him. They make a bit of a mess on the pillow, but it can’t be helped. He cannot move much after all.

“Why am I here? How-?” He cuts himself off and coughs. It’s thankfully a quick affair, and it doesn’t jostle him too much, cause him too pain.

“Your father and brother waltzed in and proposed to me with the heirloom Anthony asked you to pick up. They’ve been arrested for theft, and the guards went through your father’s journals. Sire Prince says they planned on killing my brother and Cade, at the very least. Aziraphale they had other plans for. There will be a trial.” She says as gently as she can.

“My mother?” He seems worried for her, and Babylon can understand. How easily could she not have been swept along as a conspirator?

“Asleep over there. She’s just fine, there’s no need to worry.” Bada relaxes against the bed again.

“Trial, huh. Will we be…” He pauses and she gives him some more water. “Will we be included as well?”

“My brother has vouched for you. And considering the state the guards found you in, and that your mother was locked in a room, you’re safe. Your father’s journals only damn him and your brother.” Bada closes his eyes for a moment, and whether or not it’s relief, or some sort of sadness for his father and brother, Babylon doesn’t know.

“I beg your forgiveness, my lady, for not being able to make myself worthy of your and Lady Crowley’s trust in me.” She shushes him.

“This was a grave oversight on me and my brother’s part. No forgiveness is needed, rather we’re the ones who should ask for yours. Ask any favour from me, and I will fulfil it.”

“A favour… can I still ask you to marry me?” She laughs.

“Of course you can. I’ve come to adore you, you know, so do not that be the favour you ask of me.”

“Then the favour would be, can you muster the patience to wait for me to propose until I am properly able to kneel on one knee?”

“Oh dear.” Babylon gingerly sits on the edge of the bed, brushing his hair from his sweaty forehead. “I don’t care about the ‘proper’ way of doing things. I wouldn’t mind if you asked me now.”

“I don’t have much to offer, though.” He rasps.

“I don’t care.” She tells him.

“My family is of lower status than yours.”

“I don’t much care about that either.”

“My father and brother have dragged our name through the mud. It’ll probably be worse later on.”

“Their own names. Your family name can be salvaged.”

“Will you help me?”

“Of course.” She smiles. Babylon does love a challenge.

“Will you marry me, Lady Crowley?”

“I will, Lord Hathaway.”

* * *

There is a trial. With the overwhelming amount of evidence against them, the former Lord Hathaway and Tristan realize quickly that they have no way out. Tristan tries to plead his innocence, throwing his father to the wolves as he tells them he had no choice but to do his father’s bidding. He calls for his mother and Bada to witness on his behalf. His mother refuses, sitting ramrod in her seat, but Bada, still recovering from his wounds, takes the stand with a little bit of a struggle.

He tells the truth. How Tristan was a willing conspirator from the very beginning, how he had told Bada himself that he’d make changes in the Crowley estate once he would become the master of the house. Tristan screams in a rage, calls Bada a traitor as he is helped back to his seat, only to pale and cry and plead once the judge declares him as guilty as his father.

“I imagine there is a difference, planning on killing people only to be sentenced to death themselves.” Babylon mutters to her brother who nods grimly. Lord Hathaway and Tristan are stripped of their titles, their name (at Bada’s request, as he had pleaded that just because the lord of the house had done wrong, it shouldn’t harm the innocents who rely on the family to earn a living), and sentenced to hang a fortnight after the trial.

Bada has, while recovering, been very worried for the backlash that would surely hit. Despite the fact that he’s heavily injured himself and stood against his father and brother at the trial, he believes no one would do dealings with him, and that what meagre lands his family own will be taken away.

But that didn’t happen.

He has been praised for revealing his family’s plan to the targeted family early on, for realizing it was wrong and for not letting such an atrocity happen. And once he had recovered enough to be able to walk around with less aid than during the trial, Crowley has him go through all the assets his family has, and through the papers Bada realizes something. His father hadn’t utilized the land or it’s prospects at all.

“You mean to tell me that if my father had put any actual work in, he could have gained almost all of that power that he so desperately wanted? It’s such an ironic thing, really.” He muses from his bed, dropping the papers in his lap.

“Please don’t move too much, my lord.” The doctor says as he removes the bandages around Bada, who nods and falls deep in thought. If his father had just been better about it, if he had just put in the amount of work that was needed, instead of going around abusing his wife and scheming, he would have gotten all that he wanted, without any danger of dying. His father had chosen the easy way, and it had backfired.

“The execution is tomorrow.” Babylon says from her perch on a chair as she watches the doctor put ointment on Bada’s healing back and redress the wounds.

“What of it?” Bada asks.

“Are you going? Do you want me to come with?” Bada honestly doesn’t know whether or not he should go. He owes the two nothing, he has no words to exchange with them, he’s relieved they’re going to disappear, relieved that he’ll never have to see them again. Granted, he never wanted them to die, but he has many times wanted them to just disappear, never to be heard from again. And it’s not his fault that they’re going to hang. They managed to bring themselves to the gallows.

But he is the new head of the house now. He has duties.

“Have you seen people die?” He asks Babylon once they’re alone.

“Once.” She says. “I saw my mother die.” A horrible thing, he thinks, but appreciates her honesty, appreciates her offer. And damn him for being so weak that he doesn’t think he can do it alone, that he feels like he has to ask her.

“Will you come with me?” She nods.


	17. Chapter 17

Aziraphale has had a very eventful month. First, there had been Bada and Babylon’s winter wedding, and what an absolute gorgeous event it had been. The younger woman had been absolutely gorgeous in her white dress lined with a pretty pearls, being walked down the aisle by her brother, who had not shed a single tear no matter what his wife claimed thank-you-very-much. Bada had been a handsome groom where he had accepted her hand from Crowley. The entire thing had been so joyful.

And then Michael had visited afterwards, with joyous news of her own. She is expecting a child of her own, and she had stayed two whole weeks before going back, and Lady Hathaway, or Amanda as she likes to be called by family and close friends, is visiting as well, taking a break from her work as Warlock’s new governess. But it’s nice, having visitors, especially since Crowley is away. A small price to pay for Babylon’s honeymoon. Well, she’s now put Cade to bed, it’s time for some reading. Aziraphale had learned some time ago that Amanda is very good at writing poetry, and is not against Aziraphale reading them, and so the blonde had jumped at the chance. She writes so elegantly, so beautifully, she just can’t-

There’s a sound and Aziraphale stops. She is quite sure it came from the direction of where she came from and she frowns. Did Cade wake up again= She turns back, because it wouldn’t be the first time he’d get up after she has laid him down, and she knows from personal experience that if she doesn’t go check on him immediately, he’ll run all over the estate until he falls asleep on the floor.

When she encounters his door, she can see that it is already opened. She sighs, ready to go on a search, only to hear steps inside. So she opens the door, just as Cade starts crying. Perhaps he finds the dark too scary right now due to a bad dream?

“Cade? Darling, are you alright-“ She stops short at the sight in front of her. A dark-clad stranger is holding her son, with a hand across his mouth to muffle his crying. Most women in Aziraphale’s situation, according to books at the very least, would scream and faint or call for help, Aziraphale reacts in a very different way. She shrieks, an inhuman sound leaving her as she runs inside and sinks her manicured nails into the man’s face. The man roars, his grip loosening on her little boy and she snatches him out of the man’s hands. She cradles him close as she races out of the room, knowing she cannot take the man out on her own. She chances a glance behind her, hoping against all hope that he has lost interest, but he is following, and she screams at the top of her lings:

“Help! Somebody help!” She turns a corner, sees Amanda come running out of her guest chambers with a fire poker in her hands. Aziraphale rushes past her, telling her to run, only to hear a pained yell. Aziraphale turns and sees the stranger crumple to the floor with Lady Hathaway prodding him with the fire poker. Then there is a series of rushed footsteps and several servants come rushing to the scene.

“He tried to kidnap Cade! Tie him up and call for the guard!” Aziraphale is frantic as she gives the orders. Cade is scared and crying as well, and she struggles to calm him down. It’s hard, when she is so out of it herself.

“I shall send word to the Lord immediately, madam.” The butler says and Aziraphale nearly breaks down crying herself. Crowley, Crowley, she wants Crowley here, she is so scared.

“Yes, please do so.” She says with a trembling voice. Aziraphale finds no sleep that night, or the next night for that matter, and she trusts no one with Cade but herself, and the servants can hardly fault her for it, despite the hurt they feel. The guards have taken the man, vowing to find the reason for the attempted kidnapping of her son. Aziraphale’s mind has been abuzz with so many possibilities and maybe she’s being paranoid, but she vividly remembers Sandalphon’s words in the park all those months ago.

“ _He should have been mine.”_

She can hear his voice repeat the words again and again, to the point she feels like she’s going mad.

The doors to their bedchamber slams open and she hears hurried footsteps before Crowley appears in front of her, hands cupping her face.

“Aziraphale.” And that’s what breaks her. His worried expression, the obviousness in his appearance that tells how quickly he journeyed back home when word reached him, his harried form and the worry laced in his voice. The tears slide down her face, and she grips him tight.

“Are you alright? Is Cade alright?” Said boy has been napping on their bed, and he wakes up at the sound.

“Daddy! Why is mommy crying?” Crowley drops onto the bed and pulls Cade into his lap, holding him close as the other arm wraps around Aziraphale’s shoulders and holds her close.

“I’m here.” He soothes. “I’m not leaving until we figure this out. We’ll find out who did this, and I’ll make them pay.” He swears.

“It’s Sandalphon. It has to be.” Aziraphale whispers.

“Why do you think that?” Crowley asks her quietly.

“Because he said that Cade should have been his.” Crowley is silent before he pulls back to look at her.

“I’ll look into it. Get some rest, you look exhausted.” Aziraphale wants to argue, to tell him that she is too afraid to sleep because what if something happens and she’s not there to stop it this time, but now that Crowley is home, she feels all of her exhaustion catch up to her, and she sags against him. She is so tired.

The next thing she knows, it’s pitch black, and she panics for a moment before she realizes she is in bed, and that Crowley and Cade are both here with her. She’s still so tired, but unable to fall asleep again, and her shifting alerts and wakes her husband.

“Ngel?” He mumbles.

“I’m sorry, I just… I can’t sleep.” She hadn’t meant to wake him up and she feels horrible about it. He must be so exhausted from his impromptu return journey, and here she is, waking him up in the middle of the night.

“Come here.” His voice is heavy with sleep, but she listens, lets him hold her close and safe. “You’re both safe, I promise. I won’t let anything happen to you, to either of you.” She trusts that his words are true. He’s never lied to her before, he won’t start now, not with something like this. Despite his best efforts, Crowley falls asleep before Aziraphale, but she does feel a bit better, and let’s herself, after some time has passed, to be lulled to sleep.

When she wakes, her son is gone, but her husband is there, having moved a proper desk and chair into their bedchambers so he can work from there and be there when she wakes up.

“Where is Cade?” She demands, all grogginess leaving her as she sits up. She can feel hysteria begin to dig its claws into her again.

“He’s having a bath, and then he’ll be right back.” Crowley tells her, putting down his pen. “Please, calm down.” She very much wants to fly into a rage, because how dare he take her son away from her when they’re in this vulnerable position, but she takes a deep breath to calm herself. Crowley is not going to let anything happen to Cade, and she must remember this.

But it is hard when she is so wrecked with worry.

“Breakfast will be on its way-“

“I’m not hungry.” She cuts him off curtly. He blinks at her, and gets up from his seat to head over to her to sit on the bed beside her, but when he reaches out to lay a hand on her cheek, she flinches away from him. Hurt flashes across his face, and she feels bad. He’s trying to comfort her, she knows this, but she’s feeling a bundle of conflicted emotions, she feels like she’s going to burst.

“Let it out, angel. Before Cade returns.” Crowley says, and she snaps. She yells and screams, curses and tears at her own hair, shoves Crowley and hits him with her pillow before she dissolves into sobs. She’s crying still when Cade returns, but she is considerably calmer when she woke up. The boy clambers up onto the bed, with some assistance from his father. The boy is sat between the two of them, held close. He doesn’t know why his mother is crying or why his father looks hurt, but there is great comfort in being held like this. Cade feels safe.

“I’m sorry.” Aziraphale manages between her sobs, but Crowley only presses a kiss to her forehead.

“It’s alright. You’ve had a scare, you’re afraid, it’s alright.” Once she’s exhausted herself, he calls for breakfast to be delivered. Alongside it comes Gabriel, waving a letter in one hand, and holding a parcel in the other.

“They’re from Michael.” Michael has sent a letter with a short summary of what she’s learned from their father and Sandalphon’s plan, alongside a journal. Their father’s journal, with the plan jotted down with the tiniest of details.

Kidnap the heir to the Crowley family, and have Crowley divorce Aziraphale and send her back to her father to get the boy back, so he can marry her off to Sandalphon.

Aziraphale feels sick to her stomach, she feels like throwing up. Even now, years later, her father is trying his level best to destroy any trace of happiness she has. And the worst part is that her father knows she would have agreed without hesitation if it meant her son would be returned to Crowley safe and sound, should the kidnapper have succeeded, no matter how Crowley would have fought against it to find another solution.

“That’ss it!” Crowley thunders. “ _I’ve had enough!”_

“Calm down, Lord Crowley. We have proof right here. They won’t get away with this.” Gabriel tries to placate him.

“No, we have proof on Fell, but not really Sandalphon. He’ll claim innocence, and he’ll be let off. Why can’t he stop harassing us and go find himself a poor unmarried girl?”

“What of that day in the park? Your sister and her husband are witnesses to the harassment he did earlier on. With them explaining what happened, the judge will know that there is a connection, they will take the journal more seriously.”

“It’ll still be our word against his.” Crowley says, but knows he will have to bring it to the city guard. He’ll have to tell Beelzebub. And he’ll do so, after breakfast. So he dresses himself, eats, gives his wife and son a hug and a kiss each before he heads out to his carriage. He dreads this meeting, hates that they only got a two-month reprieve before things went to hell again, hates that Aziraphale can’t seem safe in her own home. He exits his carriage, walks the steps, is led to the study by Aquila.

“Are you alright, Lord Crowley?” The young woman asks.

“No, I’m not.” Aquila nods.

“Neither is the master.” And true to Aquila’s word, Beelzebub does appear to be in a incredibly terrible mood.

“Whatever you want right now, it better help solve the mess I am sitting with now.” They snap.

“I’m stuck with my own mess.” Crowley replies tersely.

“It’s your mess I am cleaning up!” They slam their fist on the table. “Your intruder claims some lord named Sandalphon sent him to kidnap your son, but it’ll be a criminal’s word against a lord’s! Even if it’s the truth, and I can believe it because I’ve heard some shady stuff about him, no one will believe a criminal.” And what a stroke of luck it is indeed that Michael’s letter and parcel arrived this morning. Crowley hands it over, and Beelzebub becomes ravenous.

“I can use this!” They exclaim, standing up so fast from their chair that it falls over. “Get out! I have lives to ruin.” And Crowley finds himself being shoved out of the study, the doors slamming in his face. While he finds that terrible rude, he won’t complain if it gets Sandalphon and Fell to back off, if his son and wife is safe.

A week later Sandalphon is put on trial for human trafficking, where most of his ‘merchandise’ has been children. That makes Crowley’s stomach churn. If Sandalphon’s kidnapper had succeeded, what would have assured him that he’d get Cade back if he had followed the instructions? For all he knows, going by Sandalphon’s character, Cade could have become one of those children. Fell has his own trial, and is stripped of all his titles, wealth, name and is thrown in prison, though he makes a rather big spectacle through it all.

It is only after that ordeal is done and over with that Aziraphale reluctantly lets Cade out of her sight at night. She puts him down to bed and walks back to her own bedchambers once he is fast asleep. She hesitates outside the doors. She knows she has been absolutely horrible to Crowley, and she won’t be surprised if he’s quite fed up with her. She wrings her hands after closing the door behind her, nervously walking further in to see her husband already in bed, facing away from her side of the bed, snoring lightly. She feels horrible, but undresses and pulls on her sleepwear before climbing into bed herself. She lays on her back for a moment, glancing Crowley’s way before turning her back to him as well, burying her face in her pillow in an attempt at stalling the tears she feels coming. Oh she has ruined everything hasn’t she?

The bed shifts, and Aziraphale feels herself be pulled backwards by warm and gentle arms.

“Is this alright, angel?” And she breaks, burying her face in her hands, heaving sobs leaving her.

“Hey, come here.” He turns her around gently and she goes without resistance because she just can’t muster any strength. And she doesn’t want to either. If he’s so incredibly kind that he’ll comfort even someone as wretched as her, then she’ll take what scraps she can, even if she is undeserving. She is too much trouble, too emotional, she’s a terrible wife and she brings so much baggage when her family is out to make Crowley’s life hard at each and every turn. Why does he even bother with her anymore?

“Whatever you’re thinking, you’re wrong.” He suddenly murmurs and she blinks, moving her hands away to look at him. “You were scared, Aziraphale. I understand that, I was afraid too.”

“You didn’t lash out like I did.” Aziraphale mutters regretfully.

“We couldn’t both do that. And we deal with things differently. I’ve never seen you as scared as you’ve been during this whole ordeal. And it’s alright, I understand.” Aziraphale doesn’t think she deserves these kind words, his understanding, because she has been behaving abysmally.

“Do you still love me?” Her voice catches in her throat as she whimpers the words out, and Crowley brushes the tears that escape her aside, smiling the gentlest he can.

“I will always love you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was rounded up a bit quick, maybe, but I didn't want to focus as much on Sandalphon as show you guys how deeply this disturbed Aziraphale.


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Since I am not at all very good or comfortable with writing smut, I am, of course, writing (trying, so damn hard) smut

Babylon is nervous. And that is okay, because it’s perfectly normal to be nervous on a night like this. What calms her somewhat is that Bada’s hand holding hers is steady and warm, despite the shy expression on his face. She guesses she looks no different, because her cheeks feel warm, and she has a little bit of trouble of keeping eye-contact with him for more than a few seconds of the time. Babylon does know one thing; that it’s going to hurt at first (as every one of the married ladies in her circle has kept telling her since she was announced engaged), and she wants that over and done with. She just doesn’t know how to ask. Doesn’t it seem a bit rude?

“Babylon.” Bada beats her to the punch.

“Hm?” She is a bit distracted, isn’t she? Her mind is a bit of a mess, and she’s not used to it. But that can all be blamed for the unusual situation she is finding herself in, can it not? Or, well, it’s not actually unusual for married couples, but she’s never stood before a grown man in her underdress, after all, a man she just accepted as her husband a few hours ago, (something she thought she’d never do, as she was quite satisfied with being a lone governess). Also, she needs to get it all off of her chest.

“You’re squeezing my hand a little tight.” She blinks, looks down and drops his hand as it burned her.

“I’m sorry.” She mutters, but he grabs a hold of hers again, letting his thumb trace soothing patterns over her knuckles in a silent show to say that he didn’t mean that she did anything wrong, that he only pointed out that he noticed her nervousness.

“It’s alright. I’m a bit at a loss too.” Babylon raises a brow, not expecting that. For all that she knows of Bada and how he is as a person, she _had_ really thought he would be more experienced than her, truly. She has heard men brag about all their conquests in their corners at social events after having a drink or two too much. Then again, she’s never known Bada to brag much about anything.

“We’re both inexperienced here.” She concludes and that eases the pressure a little bit more. For _that_ , anyway. Not for what she’s about to do first _._

“Before we do…” she waves her free hand towards the bed, “what we’re supposed to do… I need to show you something, so we can get the questions over with.” He is visibly confused, but he nods anyway. Babylon turns around, her back facing him as she takes a few deep breaths. The only ones who’ve ever seen what she’s about to show him is the few servants helping her when she was a child, and her brother, so it’s a scary thing to lay oneself so bare. Then she loosens the strings of her underdress and waits a moment until she has gathered the courage, until her hands stop shaking, before she yanks the dress down over her shoulders, her hands fisting at her sides as it flutters to the ground. There’s no sound behind her, no gasp of surprise, no nothing. She feels vulnerable, open, naked and not in the literal sense, her terrible past scored across her back. Against her own will, her arms move to wrap around herself, and then there are footsteps and Bada is there, holding her close.

“I’m here.” He says, pressing a kiss to the top of her head, and she exhales loudly. This, this is better, being held like this is comforting. A question hangs unspoken in the air, and whether it is because Bada doesn’t know how to ask, or if thinks he shouldn’t ask or let her speak out on her own, Babylon doesn’t know. But it’s there, and she has to answer. That’s why she showed them to Bada in the first place. She wants to answer, to get it over with, no never dwell on it again after tonight.

“My father did this.” She says quietly.

“Why? Why would he do that?” Bada asks, equally as quiet, but there’s an underlying emotion there that she is unable to properly discern. It might be sadness on her behalf, or anger, disbelief.

“He didn’t want me nor need me.” Babylon answers. The thought doesn’t hurt as much as it used to, anymore, because Babylon never needed him either nor has she ever wanted him to be her father. At least after his death, when she learned what it truly meant to be a part of a family. She’s always had her brother, the staff at the summer mansion, and then Lucifer, Lilith and Warlock, and then Aziraphale.

And now Bada. And Bada can understand how she feels better than anyone. Being unwanted, physically abused by one’s parent…

“They’re deep.” Bada murmurs, pulling back just enough to brush his fingers over the scars. They’re old and they no longer hurt.

“Yours are worse.” She points out, turning around, hands pulling his shirt out of his trousers to let her own fingers touch his newly healed scars.

“Do they still hurt?” She asks. “Mine hurt for a long time.” She admits. Bada grimaces, and she retracts her hands, worrying that she did indeed cause him pain by touching. Hers are a decade old, his are barely two months old. It takes a long time for wounds caused by flogging to heal. Just because the skin has knit itself together, the scares and the area around… they can be very sensitive.

“They ache, every now and then.” He admits. He doesn’t like thinking about it, to be honest. “Not right now, though.” He assures her when she looks down.

“I’m glad.” It’s like fire across your skin, the agony. She huffs out a laugh. “What a thing to bring up on our wedding night.” Bada laughs too.

“I’m glad you told me, though.” He says. “I’d be worried if I saw or felt them without context.”

“True, and that is why I showed you. I wouldn’t want you to stop in any intimate activity we partake in tonight because of, er, _that_.” It’s occurring to her that she is standing uncovered in front of him, and he’s fully clothed. She tries very hard not to feel self-conscious as she tugs on his shirt.

“Take this off?” She asks, and he does. They’re evening out the field, and she moves to sit on the bed as he removes the last of his clothing. She’s glad when he doesn’t say anything and she scoots back to lie on the bed, pulling the covers over herself, giving him plenty of room to lie down himself.

“I must admit.” Babylon says as he lays down beside her. “I do not have much experience with what happens next.” As she says this, she curls into herself. Not out of shame or embarrassment, but it makes her feel better none-the-less, smaller, less noticeable. 

“Aziraphale did lend me some books, but it was just embarrassing to read.”

“I imagine that it’s something we’d figure out together.” Bada says, but doesn’t make much of a move either.

“I’d like to kiss you.” Babylon says, shuffling closer. “Can I?” Beating around the bush isn’t going to get them anywhere.

“I’d like that too.” It’s just tiny pecks, chaste and non-flustering, which turns into pearls of laughter as they start pressing kisses wherever they can reach. It’s quite pleasant, and affectionate, until Bada reaches a spot alongside the line of her jaw.

“ _Oh!”_ Bada pulls back, concern written across his features.

“Is that wrong?” She shakes her head.

“No, it was just, it felt different. Do it again.” After a few more, Babylon is certain that it is a _good_ different, and that she wants to find a spot on Bada that gives him the same sort of feeling. His is at the line just beneath his earlobe. Spending time doing this is nice, but they can’t just be kissing all night, so Babylon inches a bit closer, lets one hand slide down from his cheek to grip his shoulder, then yelps when he wraps an arm around her waist and crushes her to him.

“I’m sorry, did I hurt you?” He releases her immediately as her face flushes red.

“No, no, I…” She trails off, looking over his head. “I, er, I liked that, you just moving me around like I weigh nothing.”

“You _don’t_ weigh anything.” He grins and she glares.

“Just do it again, you infuriatingly annoying man.” So, he does. He yanks her over him and sits up with crossed legs, and laughs as she blows her hair from her face the moment she’s oriented herself.

“You look a mess.” He laughs and she rights herself up, sliding further into his lap and pointedly ignoring parts of his anatomy as she jabs his chest.

“Hardi-har, Bada.” She says before yanking him into a kiss. This is a bit different, there’s a passion they had not experienced earlier, and Bada’s arms wrap around her to pull her as close as he can, and that makes her breath hitch. This is all so new and she’s not sure how to act yet, or feel. She is not opposed, so far this has been very pleasant, but it’s all mostly new. She’s never been with another person. It is more like she doesn’t know how to catalogue her emotions and how she feels right now, other than that she enjoys it.

“Is this okay?”

“Very.” She says, hugging him back. She just needs to re-center herself. She feels like she’s in a rush, and they haven’t even done much other than kissing and hugging. But she knows a _little bit_ about what needs to happen next. If she is to feel any pleasure from this at all. She did read a _bit_ from the books Aziraphale lent her before she grew too embarrassed.

“When I said…” She clears her throat. “I know a little… about what I like, I mean.”

“Show me?” He asks. Babylon had expected a disapproving frown, or him telling her that she shouldn’t have, that it is shameful, considering the society they live in. She should have known better. Bada wouldn’t be like that. So she guides his hand down, tells him to keep his hand over hers so he can feel what she’s doing. The other hand has a steady grip on her hip, and she feels like the skin beneath it is burning, but in a good kind of way. So far, this entire experience is something she feels like repeating again, and that is a good thing, right? She sighs and lets her head roll back as Bada takes over, and her now free hand lands on his shoulder to keep her balance.

Bada’s lips find her throat, and presses lazy kisses up and down her throat, tiny unintelligible murmurs escaping between each kiss. She can’t understand all of them, but the once she hears makes her feel hot all over.

“S-stop, stop!” She gasps and he ceases all movement.

“Did I hurt you?” She laughs, shaking her head. She is glad that he is so attentive, making sure she feels safe throughout the entire act. She expects she wouldn’t have been given this amount of care and consideration if- she shakes her head again. No use dwelling on that, especially tonight.

“No, no, I’m just, I’m ready, I think.” She tells him and he waits for her to catch her breath and composure, then watches as she climbs off of him, and pulls on his hand until he is propped up over her.

“Alright?” Bada asks as he positions himself, and Babylon nods. Bada pushes in, and Babylon braces herself for the pain she’s told will come. There’s a sting, though it’s rather dull, it fades very quickly when Bada stops as his hips meets hers. Babylon blinks. That’s it? There had been a slight discomfort, a dull sting that alerted her body that something new was happening, but other than that, there is nothing.

She’s experienced much worse, her beatings and the times she was flogged, compared to those this is nothing. And then, when she wonders what the whole fuss is about, she feels a hand on her cheek and she returns back to their chambers, their bed, and Bada is appearing worried.

“I’m fine. It just feels, well it’s new, and there’s pressure, but there’s not pain? Try moving?” And he does, and it feels weird at first, but not bad, and they shift to try and find a good angle, and then they find it and Babylon’s nails dig into Bada’s arms as she feels pleasure coil in her belly. He’s being careful with her, but what she sees is his intense concentration and flushed cheeks, how his chest expands with each laboured breath, how his muscles flexes with each movement.

It’s not at all like she thought it would be, she manages to think before she cries out, clinging to her husband, and he collapses over her. He’s heavy, but not oppressively so. She feels sluggish, warm and safe, as she trails her hands up and down his back. A giggle escapes her and he pulls himself up enough to roll to her side, but he refuses to relinquish his hold on her. She likes that too, she realizes as she presses herself close, and feels his hand brush through her hair in a soothing motion.


	19. Chapter 19

Sandalphon is used to getting what he wants. It’s been like this for all of his forty-five years, it will not change just yet, not with something as minor as this. That the Fell woman had been engaged to someone else already when her father had promised her to Sandalphon had been a minor setback. If he truly wants her, he’ll get her. So, just to make it a bit interesting, Sandalphon waits. He thinks that he can always force himself on her. That will have her husband divorce her right quick, nobody wants a wife who has slept with someone else, but that is such an unoriginal idea, one that anyone can conjure up. Best to let that noble Lord Crowley break her in for him first, Sandalphon concludes. Might make everything easier for the older noble in the long run.

A few years pass, Sandalphon’s not-exactly-legal-which-is-rather-foolish-in-his-eyes business blooms but Lord Fell is restless. After all, Sandalphon has put a lot of pressure on the man for promising him a woman already engaged to someone else. Not that Sandalphon particularly cares all that much, but now he wants the woman, mostly because he finds enjoyment in the thought of ruining her. She’s a weak-willed woman, he thinks. It won’t take much.

So, when he has some time, and learns that she has given her husband a son, a plan forms, a plan where he gets the woman, and rob the other noble lord of his family’s future. After all, the Fell woman was promised to him and Sandalphon doesn’t like it when he’s robbed of something of his. So, he gives Lord Fell instructions, or rather, he leaves a message that reveals some details of the plan, and a warning that Sandalphon expects the man to have his future toy ready for him when the time comes. And then Sandalphon travels to London himself for a day, it’s a short carriage drive, to see if he can’t catch a glimpse of the woman. And he finds her with her son and sister-in-law in St. James Park, and he smirks in satisfaction. Why not start a bit early with breaking her in? His plan can’t be put in motion just yet, since he has to leave for a while, but he can see whether or not she’s been properly trained. As he heads over, he gets a nasty surprise. Aziraphale is far from subservient, she is far from ‘broken in’, neither is the younger sibling of Lord Crowley, and Sandalphon decides he wants to do it to the both of them, finds himself inclined to start now even, only to be interrupted by another man, who grabs hold of him in a crushing grip and Sandalphon has to bite his tongue to stop himself from crying out, and points out how he is making a scene.

Sandalphon expects to see people glare at the other man and the women, but most of the spectators are giving _him_ ugly looks, as if _he_ is the disgraceful one. He never in his wildest dreams expected that, and when he finally manages to free himself, he hastily leaves St. James park. He has been humiliated, and he swears he’ll get them back. He’ll marry that bitch, the other he’ll have locked up in his mansion and sell or use as he himself sees fit, and the son he’ll sell! That’ll teach them! Anthony J. Crowley took his rightful toy from him, so Sandalphon will take his family from him. An eye for an eye. He changes his plans before he leaves his home to do business far from London, out in France, but he’s in no hurry. They’ll still be in London when he gets back.

And when he returns, and has calmed down considerably, he learns that the youngest Crowley has also married, so that is a missed opportunity, but he can find another way to ruin her later on. For now, he’ll focus on Aziraphale and her son. Sandalphon realizes that he should probably thank Lord Crowley for giving him a challenge. It’s more fun when they fight. He’ll send the son back, instead of selling him. Lord Crowley should be thanking Sandalphon for his generosity, when the time comes. He really should. And when everything is in place, Sandalphon hires a man to kidnap the boy. It’s not the first time they’ve worked together, they both know the drill; Kidnap the boy, send the ransom demand, and hand the boy back once the demand has been fulfilled.

So Sandalphon waits in his lavish home, mind taking him to all the possible scenarios in which he can put Aziraphale through. He has instruments in which she’ll quickly learn her place. He is positively giddy about it after a few days pass by. Very soon, Fell will contact him, tell him that the woman has returned home, and is ready to be remarried. Well, maybe she won’t be emotionally ready, but who cares about that? Sandalphon has been a very patient man, it’s time for him to be rewarded. This is no time for her to be difficult.

“Oh, I can hardly wait-“ He cuts himself off at the sound of someone knocking forcefully on his door. He frowns when he hears heavy footsteps and experiences the horrifying reality of having Beelzebub Prince and the entire city guard storming into his study, and he knows that something has gone horribly wrong. He especially feels panic when the guards start searching his home, and storms down into the cellar of his home, in which his _‘merchandise’_ is hidden. Already he can see where he is heading, and he never imagined it would happen to him.

And when he is put on trial for the children found in his dungeon with the ledger showing how much each will cost a bidder, and his connection to the kidnapping attempt of Lord Crowley’s son is revealed, Sandalphon is overcome with fury. And fear. The punishment for the crime of slavery is death. He’ll hang. He’ll hang because Fell is a fucking idiot, recording the plan and referring to everyone by name in his journal, he’ll hang because his kidnapper got caught, he’ll hang because of Aziraphale Crowley, who claimed it was him since the beginning.

He’ll hang because of a woman!

* * *

Aziraphale talked to Crowley about this, and while he had argued vehemently against it in the beginning, telling her not to, that he didn’t want her to (big mistake, that), he had given up in the end. It had nearly grown into a shouting match between them before he had given up, realized he couldn’t deny her this because she is her own person, and he didn’t want to anger her to the point she won’t talk to him for days. But when he had moved to follow her out, another argument had sparked, this time with a lot of yelling, before he finally gave up on that argument too.

“Just… be safe.” Crowley tells her tiredly, falling into his chair as she nods and smooths down her dress. She knows he’s just worried, but it still infuriates her that he thought for a moment that he could control her, even if it was just for this one thing, even if it was for her sake. That is not the kind of marriage they have, they have a mutual understanding, respect for each other. If that is to suddenly disappear into the ether, no, Aziraphale doesn’t want to think that Crowley will ever do that to her. So she walks over, lifts his chin to make him look at her and tells him she loves him, and that she will be careful, and come back safe and sound.

And that if he tries something like this again, he’ll be sleeping alone for a week. It’s not actually an empty threat, but he laughs anyway, taking her hand in his and kisses it, apologizing and promising that it won’t happen again.

“I don’t have a right to tell you not to do this. I’m just worried, considering how he treats you.” It is sweet that he worries, but she’ll not have him micromanaging her in an attempt at protecting her feelings. The worst has passed, this is her chance at putting everything behind her, and calming down and feeling properly safe again. She leaves him with assurances and heads to her carriage. Her mind is surprisingly blank as she looks out the window, watches the streets they pass through until they find themselves at the guard’s headquarters.

So now Aziraphale finds herself being led down into the dungeon, to see her father one last time before he is shipped off to do high labour work for the rest of his life. She isn’t sure what to feel, or what the outcome of this final visit will mean. But she wants it, she feels like she’ll regret it if she doesn’t. Her entire adult life, Aziraphale has felt fear and anxiety whenever she was in his company.

But now she feels strangely calm.

The guard stops outside a cell and gestures to the man inside. She asks that she will be left alone with the man, and the guard nods with a bow, before leaving. Her father looks haggard. He’s only been here for a couple of days, but his hair is a mess, he’s got a full stubble, his clothes are dirty and he’s as pale as a ghost. Once he notices that has a visitor, he spares her a glance before he looks away.

“Have you come to gloat?” He snaps. “To rub it in that you’ve sent me here? Humiliated me to this extent?” She frowns, not appreciating the vitriol in his voice, nor the accusations, and so she sets him straight. Or attempts to.

“You landed yourself here.” She says calmly and he glares at her.

“How dare you? I am in here because of _you!”_ He very nearly yells.

“You’re in here because you were part of a plot to kidnap my son, so you could sell me to Sandalphon. I didn’t make you do any of that. Every action up to this point was of your own free will.” He leaps to his feet and grabs the bars, snarling angrily. Aziraphale does not react at all, and silently applauds herself for that.

“It _is_ all your fault! After everything I have done for you, _this_ is how you repay me!” She finds it laughable that he thinks it to be her fault he is sitting in a cell, having lost everything he had, that he thinks he is in the right and that she is being ungrateful. Oh, Aziraphale is very grateful to a lot of people. Her mother, first and foremost, for having stood in Eugene Fell’s way every time he tried to marry her off, she is grateful to Gabriel for having seen her as a person and important family, to Michael for always doing her best to protect Aziraphale and her help in stopping a second kidnapping attempt from happening, and she is extremely grateful to Crowley, for loving her for who she is.

“I am grateful to a lot of people.” She starts. “But I cannot recall one single reason as to why I should be grateful to you. For trying to sell me for your own gain? For verbally abusing me? For trying to shame me in front of my husband? For trying to kidnap my son and blackmail my husband?” His face twists with rage, and it is strangely satisfying to watch as he tries to find something to say back but comes up with nothing.

“You wouldn’t be here without me. _I made you!”_ Aziraphale can’t for the life of her stop the snort escaping her, nor does she really want to. She wants him to see that she is neither impressed nor afraid.

“As a mother myself, I know that a woman’s body does most of the work, while the man’s effort is one night at most, so don’t you dare claim that. My mother made me.”

“And look what a disappointment you turned out to be.” Before marrying Crowley, such a comment would have broken her façade, sent her crying with humiliation. Now, she can see how pathetic he is, how he would hurt her to wear her down so he could manipulate her easier. And she feels so angry, because this is the man who claimed to love Aziraphale’s mother, and he just insulted her memory. But instead of giving him the satisfaction of seeing her crack, she stands tall and proud and looks down her nose at him.

“Yet I am the one backed by one of the most powerful families in our entire kingdom, and you’re sitting here, with nothing.” His jaw drops, not having expected her to say that. He had not expected her to actually talk back at him like this, and what is the absolute worst is that she is right. He did all he could to gain power, but it all ended up with him losing everything and her gaining everything he wanted. And Aziraphale feels like this is her first true victory over her father, her very own victory, and her courage is boosted.

“I would wish you a good day, but frankly you don’t deserve it, and no doubt you’ll be miserable wherever you end up.” And without so much as a goodbye, she walks away, feeling rather relieved, free. On her way out she passes Sandalphon’s cell, and she stops and regards him for a moment.

Back in the park he had appeared as a regal gentleman (until he opened his mouth), but here he reminds her of a weasel, cowering in his cell. He sees her and lunges forward, but she is already on her way out. She has no words for him, and she has no wish to be in his presence more than she has to. He shouts after her as she walks away, heads to the stairs, pleads for mercy, yells that he’ll give her husband whatever he wants if he speaks for him, can save him from the gallows. Aziraphale ignores him all the way. She’s not a fan of seeing people hang, she finds it frankly barbaric and she doubts that she’ll enjoy seeing Sandalphon dangle from the rope. She didn’t much enjoy the sight of the two Hathaways’ jerk and lose all control of their bowels as they swayed, she won’t enjoy seeing Sandalphon’s end either.

But she feels no reason to help him either. Aziraphale thinks she is a good person, or as good as she can be, that she does her best to be a good mother, wife, family member and friend to those close to her, but she cannot and will not shoulder any burden for sake of other people’s misguided actions. They’re not being punished because they acted against her, they’re being punished because their intent and actions were unlawful, and evil.

And that is not her burden to carry. As she said to her father, they got themselves in this mess by of their own free will. Now they are facing the consequences of it.

The carriage ride back home feels quicker, and when she enters the foyer, Crowley is there immediately, with Cade, and the boy waves his arms and reaches for her.

“Hey there, darling.” She beams, taking him in her arms from her husband. “Did you miss me?” The boy laughs and holds her close, and Aziraphale looks up to Crowley, who seem anxious.

“I am just fine, my dear.” She tells him, holding out a hand for him to take. “I just needed to see him. And now I am done, and I’ll never have to think about him again.” He clutches her hand tightly in his own, looks apologetic, but she tilts her head at him and tugs on his hand, leading them down the halls towards the library.

“How about I read us something?”

“We’d love that.” Crowley answers, as Cade nods vigorously.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that is the end of this arc. After this we'll be back to small snippets of their lives


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Implied child abuse and rape (not explicit, just mentioned) and the death of an unborn.

Aquila has lived a very, well, turbulent can be a word for it. She doesn’t have too many fond memories of her childhood. She remembers a father, a brother, she remembers feeling happy whenever she was near them, but she cannot quite remember their faces. Because she was quite young when it happened, when men dressed in dark cloaks just picked her up on the streets and carried her away, with no one either noticing or caring. Perhaps they were too afraid to do anything, afraid the men would turn on them. Who can blame them? Nobody is looking out for anyone but themselves.

Aquila remembers being held in a dark basement, along with several other children. All of them huddling together and crying. Some were dirty, some were rather bare and cold, but each and every one was afraid. She remembers the men who took her throwing her and a few others into that cell, and then receiving a pouch filled with money from a man with little hair on his head and a golden shine to his smile. A golden tooth, she knows now, but back then she didn’t. Back then, all she saw was a man of noble birth, leering down at all of them. Each day, at least one child left the cell. Some came back crying, bruised and bloody and with their legs tightly pushed together and their backs to the wall, others didn’t come back at all. When Aquila was pulled out of the basement, she was terrified. She had been bound and cast into a carriage, and two days later, she is pulled through the back doors to a huge mansion, and given tasks from the early mornings into the late evenings.

And it wasn’t so bad. She was being paid for her work, and the master wasn’t all that bad, kind even, in his old age. She wasn’t much of a fan of his son, but she managed to avoid him with all her work. Then, when she grew older, she was given the title household maid. And that made her, unfortunately, come across the son more often. He was never unkind, he never threatened her, but she didn’t like the way he smiled. It reminded her of the man who kept her jailed in his basement for who knows how long. The man who had her kidnapped from her own family. But Aquila doesn’t know the way home, so the best she can do is do a good job and try and make a living for herself.

She is twelve when the son married. She is fourteen when the master of the house died and his son took over his position. She is also fourteen the first time it happens. When the headmaid sends her off with a drink the new master has requested in his office, even though it’s late at night. When Aquila walks stiffly into the shared bedchambers, eyes wide, tear-tracks down her face, the headmaid almost immediately knows what has happened. The trail of blood down between her legs when the skirt is lifted. The headmaid is horrified, and after helping the girl clean herself up and carefully explain what had happened to her, she makes sure Aquila can stay in bed for three days to rest up, to let her body deal with the terrible thing that has happened. Then it’s back to work. The headmaid also makes sure to keep Aquila close at all times. It’s the only way to help the girl, after all.

It happened again when she’s fifteen. And two times at sixteen. And then Aquila was told she was pregnant. She cried for hours that night as she was held by the headmaid. But there was nothing they could do about it, so the headmaid made absolutely sure that Aquila did not work anywhere near the wife. Who could know what that woman would do if she saw Aquila pregnant. It had been no secret that the master of the house fancied a tryst with his servants, and the wife had been married to him for years without giving him a child.

But one day the master of the house was visited by Lord Prince, a direct relative of the royal family. And Aquila, at a little over four months pregnant, is summoned to bring them tea and snacks. She didn’t want to, but she had been specifically requested, and things never went well when she refused. So she brought it to the sitting room, only to be accosted by the wife, who called her a whore and a slight upon the noble family she served, to show up pregnant. And something in Aquila broke, and she yelled back, just as the door opened, that the baby in her belly was the lord of the house’s child, and that she also wished she didn’t have it, because she didn’t want the man touching her any of the times he did. And the wife had screamed in rage, grabbing the first thing she could reach, a flaming candle, and threw it at Aquila as she charged forward. The candle smeared across the young girl’s face and she was momentarily blinded as the woman pushed her to the ground and stomped on her stomach.

And that was the end of that. Aquila felt a terrible pain in her stomach, heard the woman scream and rage, the master’s yells that he would not stand for a servant of his smearing his name. After that everything turned dark, and when she came to, she found herself in a bed, with the headmaid sitting beside her, though no longer in a servant’s garb. She also looked much older than Aquila could remember her being, and is explained what had happened while she was unconscious, for days. The babe in her belly is gone. The vicious beating from the wife of their master had made sure of that. Aquila felt no sadness from that, not on her own part. The child itself was innocent, but Aquila never wanted it. Maybe that made her a horrible person, but she didn’t care either way. The headmaid has been taken in as a servant at Lord Prince’s estate, and said lord had also put their former master and his wife up for trial. For abusing their staff and killing an innocent babe. They lost their names and wealth.

And Aquila wondered where she would end up now. And Lord Prince enters some time later. Aquila had never seen them before, but they are not what she had expected. And with a deal that seemed too good to be true, Aquila found herself a new servant of theirs.

Aquila has lived a harsh life, and she remembers very little of her childhood. But she does remember the man with the golden tooth, and when she sees the man in her master’s custody, she can’t help the tiny smile gracing her lips.

When Lord Sandalphon hangs, body jerking in the rope, she finds herself thinking that finally, justice has been served, and that surviving everything she has up to this point, to see this man lose his life, might have been worth it.


End file.
